lady anywhere in Christendom.''

Mrs. Presbury laughed angrily. ``YOU, talking like
this--you of all men. Is there anything YOU wouldn't
stoop to for money?''

``Do you think I laid myself open to that charge by
marrying you?'' said Presbury, made cheerful despite
his savage indigestion by the opportunity for effective
insult she had given him and he had promptly seized.
``I am far too gallant to agree with you. But I'm
also too gallant to contradict a lady. By the way,
you must be careful in dealing with Siddall. Rich people
like to be fawned on, but not to be slobbered on.
You went entirely too far.''

Mrs. Presbury, whom indigestion had rendered stupid,
could think of no reply. So she burst into tears.
``And my own daughter sitting silent while that man
insults her mother!'' she sobbed.

Mildred sat stiff and cold.

``It'll be a week before I recover from that dinner,''
Presbury went on sourly. ``What a dinner! What a
villainous mess! These vulgar, showy rich! That
champagne! He said it cost him six dollars a bottle,
and no doubt it did. I doubt if it ever saw France.
The dealers rarely waste genuine wine on such cattle.
The wine-cellars of fine houses the world through are