earthquake. Who was the architect of that abortion?" demanded Rolfe.

"Denison. He's an impressionist."

"The Thursdales have a new French car. Have you seen it? Eleanor ran
over here in it this afternoon with her Englishman. Showing off both
of her novelties at once, d'ye see?" said Carter, the tennis player.

"I understand the thing's a go--sure go," said the big man. "In the
fall some time. He's a rather decent chap, too."

"And, what's better, if his brother and his cousin should happen to
die, he'll be a duke."

"If they're as healthy as he seems to be, there'll be nothing doing
for him."

A good-looking young fellow, who had been staring at the fire all
evening, moved uneasily in his lounging chair. Several quick glances
were sent to where he sat moodily apart from the others, and then
surreptitious winks and nudges were exchanged.

"Joe is as crazy in love with her as ever, poor devil," whispered
Rolfe. Gradually the group of gossips came closer together over the
table top; the conversation was continued in more subdued tones.

"They're discussing me, damn 'em," said the moody young man to
himself. "I suppose they're pitying me. Damn cats! But I'll show 'em a
thing or two they're not looking for before long." He looked at his
watch for the twentieth time in an hour and scowled at the drenched