an artist and I believe that art
is really all that is worth living for. I want you to do great work,
and I want you to be a really great figure in New York instead of a
merely notable one."

"You've both taken the conceit out of me and bucked me up. . . . But I
want you to meet her, and I don't know how to bring it about. I have
an idea that your instinct would get somewhere near the truth."

"Suppose I give a party, and, a day or two before, you ask her casually
if she would like to come--or put it to her in any way you think best.
Nobody calls these days, but I have an idea she would. People of that
type rarely renounce the formalities. Then, if I'm really clever, I'll
make her think she'd like to see me again and she will be at home when
I return her call. Do you think you could work it?"

"It's possible. I've roused her curiosity about our crowd and I'll
plant a few more seeds. Yes, I think she'll come. When will you have
it?"

"A week from Saturday."

"Good. You're a brick, Gora. And don't imagine you'll ever get rid of
me. If she is unique, so are you. This fireside will always be a
magnet."

Miss Dwight merely smiled.

XVI

Clavering walked rapidly toward Mr. Dinwiddie's club. He was in no
haste to be alone with himself, although he should have been at his
desk an hour ago. But it was time Dinwiddie had some news for him.

The club was deserted as far as he was concerned and he went on to Mr.
Dinwiddie's rooms in Forty-eighth Street. There he found his friend in
dressing-gown and slippers, one bandaged foot on a stool.

"Gout?" he asked with the callousness of youth. "Wondered why I hadn't
heard from you."

"I've tried to get you no less than four times on the telephone."

"When I'm at work I leave orders downstairs to let my telephone alone,
and I've been walking a lot."

"Well, sit down and smoke. Standing round makes me nervous. You look
nervous yourself. Been working too hard?"

"Yes. Think of taking a run down to Florida."

"Perhaps I'll go with you. But I've something to tell you. That's the
reason I called you up----"

"Well?"

"Don't snap my head off. Got a touch of dyspepsia?"

"No, I haven't. If you had to turn out a column a day you'd be nervous
too."

"Well, take a vacation----"

"What have you found out?"

"It took me a week to get in touch with Harry Thornhill, but he finally
consented to see me. He's lived buried among books for the last