y Wellesly, a rather petite blonde,
who was beginning to care for her complexion and other people's
reputations, but was a square girl, just the same; and Charlotte
Brundage, a pink and white beauty, but the crack tennis and golf player
of her sex at the Club and a thorough good sport, besides.

The men were: Harold Hungerford, who was harmlessly negative and
inoffensively polite; Roderick Colloden, who, after Macloud, was the
most popular man in the set, a tall, red haired chap, who always seemed
genuinely glad to meet anyone in any place, and whose handshake gave
emphasis to it. He had not a particularly good memory for faces, and
the story is still current in the Club of how, when he had been
presented to a newcomer four times in one week, and had always told him
how glad he was to meet him, the man lost patience and blurted out,
that he was damn glad to know it, but, if Colloden would recognize him
the next time they met, he would be more apt to believe it. The
remaining member of the party was Montecute Mattison. He was a small
man, with peevishly pinched features, that wore an incipient smirk when
in repose, and a hyena snarl when in action. He had no friends and no
intimates. He was the sort who played dirty golf in a match:
deliberately moving on the green, casting his shadow across the hole,
talking when his opponent was about to drive, and anything else to
disconcert. In fact, he was a dirty player in any game--because it was
natural. He would not have been tolerated a moment, even at the
Heights, if he had not been Warwick Mattison's son, and the heir to his
millions. He never made an honest dollar in his life, and could not, if
he tried, but he was Assistant-Treasurer of his father's company, did
an hour's work every day signing the checks, and drew fifteen thousand
a year for it. A man's constant inclination was to smash him in the
face--and the only reason he escaped was because it would have been
like beating a child. One man had, when Mattison was more than
ordinarily offensive, laid him across his knee, and, in full sight of
the Club-house, administered a good old-fashioned spanking with a golf
club. Him Montecute thereafter let alone. The others did not take the
trouble, however. They simply shrugged their shoulders, and swore at
him freely and to his face.

At present, he was playing the devoted to Miss Brundage and hence his
inclusion in the party. She cared nothing for him, but his money was a
thi