"I will recommend her to your favour," said Montague. "I have been
telling her about you."

"What have you told her?" asked Mrs. Billy, serenely,--"that I win
too much money at bridge, and drink Scotch at dinner?" Then, seeing
Montague blush furiously, she laughed. "I know it is true. I have
caught you thinking it half a dozen times."

And she reached out for the decanter which the butler had just
placed in front of her, and proceeded to help herself to her opening
glass.

Montague told her all about Lucy; and, in the meantime, he watched
the latter, who sat near the centre of the table, talking with
Stanley Ryder. Montague had played bridge with this man once or
twice at Mrs. Winnie's, and he thought to himself that Lucy could
hardly have met a man who would embody in himself more of the
fascinations of the Metropolis. Ryder was president of the Gotham
Trust Company, an institution whose magnificent marble front was one
of the sights of Fifth Avenue. He was a man a trifle under fifty,
tall and distinguished-looking, with an iron-grey mustache, and the
manners of a diplomat. He was not only a banker, he was also a man
of culture; he had run away to sea in his youth, and he had
travelled in every country of the world. He was also a bit of an
author, in an amateur way, and if there was any book which he had
not dipped into, it was not a book of which one would be apt to hear
in Society. He could talk upon any subject, and a hostess who could
secure Stanley Ryder for one of her dinner-parties generally counted
upon a success. "He doesn't go out much, these busy days," said Mrs.