sample of what the whole must be. Drouet was not a drinker in
excess. He was not a moneyed man. He only craved the best, as
his mind conceived it, and such doings seemed to him a part of
the best. Rector's, with its polished marble walls and floor,
its profusion of lights, its show of china and silverware, and,
above all, its reputation as a resort for actors and professional
men, seemed to him the proper place for a successful man to go.
He loved fine clothes, good eating, and particularly the company
and acquaintanceship of successful men. When dining, it was a
source of keen satisfaction to him to know that Joseph Jefferson
was wont to come to this same place, or that Henry E. Dixie, a
well-known performer of the day, was then only a few tables off.
At Rector's he could always obtain this satisfaction, for there
one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, some rich young
"rounders" of the town, all eating and drinking amid a buzz of
popular commonplace conversation.

"That's So-and-so over there," was a common remark of these
gentlemen among themselves, particularly among those who had not
yet reached, but hoped to do so, the dazzling height which money
to dine here lavishly represented.

"You don't say so," would be the reply.

"Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager of the Grand
Opera House."

When these things would fall upon Drouet's ears, he would
straighten himself a little more stiffly and eat with solid
comfort. If he had any vanity, this augmented it, and if he had