He joined a group in one corner, and lounged in the shadows, and
studied "Billy" Price, whose conversation had so mystified him.
"Billy," whose father was a banker, proved to be a devotee of
horses; she was a veritable Amazon, the one passion of whose life
was glory. Seeing her sitting in this group, smoking cigarettes, and
drinking highballs, and listening impassively to risque stories, one
might easily draw base conclusions about Billy Price. But as a
matter of fact she was made of marble; and the men, instead of
falling in love with her, made her their confidante, and told her
their troubles, and sought her sympathy and advice.

Some of this was explained to Montague by a young lady, who, as the
evening wore on, came in and placed herself beside him. "My name is
Betty Wyman," she said, "and you and I will have to be friends,
because Ollie's my side partner."

Montague had to meet her advances; so had not much time to speculate
as to what the term "side partner" might be supposed to convey.
Betty was a radiant little creature, dressed in a robe of deep
crimson, made of some soft and filmy and complicated material; there
was a crimson rose in her hair, and a living glow of crimson in her
cheeks. She was bright and quick, like a butterfly, full of strange
whims and impulses; mischievous lights gleamed in her eyes and
mischievous smiles played about her adorable little cherry lips.
Some strange perfume haunted the filmy dress, and completed the
bewilderment of the intended victim.

"I have a letter of introduction to a Mr. Wyman in New York," said
Montague. "Perhaps he is a relative of yours."