them and Gamble was an amusing one. Mrs. De Graffenried was fond of
the society of young people, and most of her guests were of the
second or even the third generation. The man from Pittsburg seemed
to be the only one there who had made his own money, and who bore
the impress of the money struggle upon him. Montague smiled at the
thought. He seemed the very incarnation of the spirit of oil; he was
gross and unpleasant, while in the others the oil had been refined
to a delicate perfume. Yet somehow he seemed the most human person
there. No doubt he was crudely egotistical; and yet, if he was
interested in himself, he was also interested in other people, while
among Mrs. De Graffenried's intimates it was a sign of vulgarity to
be interested in anything.

He seemed to have taken quite a fancy to Montague, for reasons best
known to himself. He came up to him again, after the luncheon. "This
is the first time you've been here, Oliver tells me," said he.

Montague assented, and the other added: "You'd better come and let
me show you the town. I have my car here."

Montague had no engagement, and no excuse handy. "It's very good of
you--" he began.

"All right," said Gamble. "Come on."

And he took him out and seated him in his huge red touring-car,
which had a seat expressly built for its owner, not too deep, and
very low, so that his fat little legs would reach the floor.

Gamble settled back in the cushions with a sigh. "Rum sort of a