and caution. Fortune heaped up riches around him with a lavish
hand. He was unmarried and the halo of his wealth caught the keen
eye of the matron with marriageable daughters. He was invited out,
caught by the whirl of society, and tossed into its maelstrom. In
a measure he reciprocated. He kept horses and a yacht. His
dinners at Delmonico's and the club were above reproach. But with
all he was a silent man with a shadow deep in his eyes, and seemed
to court the society of his fellows, not because he loved them, but
because he either hated or feared solitude. For years the strategy
of the match-maker had gone gracefully afield, but Fate is
relentless. If she shields the victim from the traps of men, it is
not because she wishes him to escape, but because she is pleased to
reserve him for her own trap. So it happened that, when Virginia
St. Clair assisted Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant at her midwinter
reception, this same Samuel Walcott fell deeply and hopelessly and
utterly in love, and it was so apparent to the beaten generals
present, that Mrs. Miriam Steuvisant applauded herself, so to
speak, with encore after encore. It was good to see this
courteous, silent man literally at the feet of the young debutante.
He was there of right. Even the mothers of marriageable daughters
admitted that. The young girl was brown-haired, brown-eyed, and
tall enough, said the experts, and of the blue blood royal, with
all the grace, courtesy, and inbred genius of such princely
heritage.

Perhaps it was objected by the censors of the Smart Set that Miss
St. Clair's frankness and honesty were a trifle old-fashioned, and
that she was a shadowy bit of a Puritan; and perhaps it was of
these same qualities that Samuel Walcott received his hurt. At any
rate the hurt was there and deep, and the new actor stepped up into