her crowded
existence, to follow the perturbations of Wall Street save as they
affected the hospitality of Fifth Avenue.

"You mean they've lost their money? Won't they give their fancy ball,
then?"

Van Degen shrugged. "Nobody knows how it's coming out That queer chap
Elmer Moffatt threatens to give old Driscoll a fancy ball--says he's
going to dress him in stripes! It seems he knows too much about the Apex
street-railways."

Undine paled a little. Though she had already tried on her costume for
the Driscoll ball her disappointment at Van Degen's announcement was
effaced by the mention of Moffatt's name. She had not had the curiosity
to follow the reports of the "Ararat Trust Investigation," but once
or twice lately, in the snatches of smoking-room talk, she had been
surprised by a vague allusion to Elmer Moffatt, as to an erratic
financial influence, half ridiculed, yet already half redoubtable. Was
it possible that the redoubtable element had prevailed? That the time
had come when Elmer Moffatt--the Elmer Moffatt of Apex!--could, even for
a moment, cause consternation in the Driscoll camp? He had always said
he "saw things big"; but no one had ever believed he was destined to
carry them out on the same scale. Yet apparently in those idle Apex
days, while he seemed to be "loafing and fooling," as her father called
it, he had really been sharpening his weapons of aggression; there had
been something, after all, in the effect of loose-drifting power she had
always felt in him. Her heart beat faster, and she longed to question
Van Degen; but she was afraid of betraying herself, and turned back
to the group about the picture. Mrs. Driscoll was still presenting
objections in a tone of small mild obstinacy. "Oh, it's a LIKENESS, of
course--I can see that; but there's one thing I must say, Mr. Popple. It
looks like a last year's dress."

The attention of the ladies instantly rallied to the picture, and the
artist paled at the challenge.

"It doesn't look like a last year's face, anyhow--that's what makes them
all wild," Van Degen murmured. Undine gave him back a quick smile. She
had already forgotten about Moffatt. Any triumph in which she shared
left a glow in her veins, and the success of the picture obscured all
other impressions. She saw herself throning in a central panel at the
spring exhibition, with the crowd pushing about the picture, repeating
her name; and she decided to stop on the way home and telephone h