o the original question which had started the
discussion.

"As I said before, there is a certain inconsistency in the idea of a
given number of women setting themselves to work to better the condition
of the masses, and then coming to wreck and ruin because one of their
number is of a slightly different set."

"Slightly inferior," Sally corrected him.

Lorimer accepted the amendment.

"Inferior, then, if you choose. But we are talking of the theory in the
abstract, not of any particular case. One hardly expects to find
snobbishness in slumming."

"Then that's where one gets left," Bobby commented, by way of
parenthesis.

"But if you are all stooping?"

"Yes; but the alignment is better, if we all stoop at the same angle,"
Sally protested.

"What I wish to know," Thayer said thoughtfully; "is where the deadline
of propriety exists. Take the case of Mrs. Lloyd Avalons, for instance.
Why does she take Patsey Keefe to her heart and home, and snub Arlt upon
all occasions?"

"Because she wishes to maintain a proper perspective," Sally replied.
"Everyone knows that Patsey and she are chums from choice; with Mr.
Arlt, there might be a question. Legitimate slumming presupposes two
willing parties, the slummer and the slummed."

"In other words," Bobby added; "it is socially possible to foregather
with the slum in the next ward; it is death to speak to the undesirable
neighbor in the back alley. The fact is ordained; but it will take
several generations of social scientists to ferret out the cause."

Sally addressed the table at large.

"For my part, I like Mr. Arlt," she said flatly. "What's more, I am
going with him to the Kneisel concert, to-morrow night; and, if any of
you are there and choose to eye me askance, you are welcome."

Later, that evening, Thayer found himself with Beatrix and a little
apart from the others. The dinner had been utterly informal, and it had
been tacitly understood that the guests should linger afterwards. It was
only ten days since the Lorimers had landed from their European
honeymoon, and as yet they felt themselves privileged to hold themselves
a little aloof from the social treadmill. Though the breakfast table,
each morning, was littered with cards and notes of invitation, yet the
season was in their favor. Lent had entered upon its last week, and even
the largest functions clothed themselves in penitential and becoming
shades of violet. Accordingly, it had been a source of lit