cannot help catching glimpses of the evil substratum of society.
One cannot help passing through a smoking-car occasionally, or--"

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lottie, as if startled. "Is a smoking-car
a 'questionable place'? Mr. De Forrest," she continued sharply,
"did you not spend half an hour in the smoking-car coming up?"

"Yes," he replied faintly.

"You surprise me, sir," she said severely. "Mr. Hemstead declares
it is a 'questionable place.' I hope hereafter you will have more
regard for your reputation."

"Please do not mistake me," said Hemstead, with increasing annoyance;
"I did not mean to assert any moral qualities of smoking-cars, though
with then filth and fumes there would be no question in your mind
about them whatever, Miss Marsden. What I meant to say was, that
in such places as smoking-cars, hotel lobbies, and through the
open doors of saloons, are caught glimpses of a life which we all
should unite in condemning and loathing; and what I have seen has
always led me to connect cards with just that kind of life. Moreover,
gambling--that fearful and destructive vice--is almost inseparable
from cards."

"How experiences differ!" said Lottie, reflectively. "I have had
but few glimpses of the life you describe so graphically. With
the bits of pasteboard that you have seen chiefly in coarse, grimy
hands, I associate our cosey sitting-room at home, with its glowing
grate and 'moon-light lamp,' as we call it, for father's eyes are
weak. Even now," she continued, assuming the look of a rapt and