the birth of the New Year is imminent.

It is a strange evolution, a strange condition, a state of mind not to
be logically accounted for. It is not accurate to say that the nicer
people, the better sort, hold aloof; because some of them do not. And in
this uproarious carnival the better sort are as likely to misbehave as
are the worse; and they have done it, and do it, and probably will
continue to say and do and tolerate and permit inanities in themselves
and in others that, at other moments, they would regard as
insanities--and rightly.

Around every table, rosily illuminated, laughter rang. White throats and
shoulders glimmered, jewels sparkled, the clear crystalline shock of
glasses touching glasses rang continual accompaniment to the music and
the breezy confusion of voices.

Here and there, in premonition of the eventual, the comet-like passage
of streaming confetti was blocked by bare arms upflung to shield
laughing faces; arms that flashed with splendid jewels on wrist and
finger.

Neville, coolly surveying the room, recognised many, responding to
recognition with a laugh, a gesture, or with glass uplifted.

"Stop making goo-goos," cried Mazie, dropping her hand over his wrist.
"Listen, and I'll be imprudent enough to tell you the very latest
toast--" She leaned nearer, opening her fan with a daring laugh; but
Ogilvy wouldn't have it.

"This is no time for single sentiment!" he shouted. "Everybody should
be perfectly plural to-night--everything should be plural, multiple,
diffuse, all embracing, general, polydipsiatic, polygynyatic,
polyandryatic!"

[Illustration: Mazie Gray.]

"What's polyandryatic?" demanded Mazie in astonishment.

"It means everybody is everybody else's! I'm yours and you're mine but
everybody else owns us and we own everybody."

"Hurrah!" shouted Annan. "Hear--hear! Where is the fair and total
stranger who is going to steal the first kiss from me? Somebody count
three before the rush begins--"

A ball of roses struck him squarely on the mouth; a furious shower of
confetti followed. For a few moments the volleys became general, then
the wild interchange of civilities subsided, and the cries of laughter
died away and were lost in the loud animated hum which never ceased
under the gay uproar of the music.

When they played the barcarole from Contes d'Hoffman everybody sang it
and rose to their feet cheering the beautiful prima donna with whom the
song was so closely identifi