of the best restaurants, with
a large acquaintance amongst the racing and theatrical world but with
no known means of subsistence, showed marked interest in the
announcement.

"Not Jacob Pratt, the oil millionaire?" he exclaimed.

She nodded.

"His money comes to him, I believe, from some oil springs in the
western States of America," she acquiesced. "His brother is a
successful prospector."

The young man leaned across the table.

"Did you hear that, Joe?" he enquired.

Joe Hartwell, a smooth-shaven, stalwart young American, with fleshy
cheeks and unusually small eyes, assented vigorously.

"Mighty interesting," was his thoughtful comment. "A millionaire, Lady
Powers."

Grace Powers, an attractive looking young lady, who had made meteoric
appearances upon the musical comedy stage and in the divorce court,
and was now lamenting the decease of her last husband--a youthful
baronet whom she had married while yet a minor--gazed across at Jacob
with frank interest.

"What a dear person!" she exclaimed. "He looks as though he had come
out of a bandbox. I think he is perfectly sweet. What a lucky girl you
are to know him, Sybil!"

"You all seem to have taken such a fancy to him that you had better
divide him up amongst you," Sybil suggested coldly. "I detest him."

"Please introduce me," Grace Powers begged,--"that is, if you are sure
you don't want him yourself."

"And me," Mason echoed.

"Can't I be in this?" the third man, young Lord Felixstowe, suggested,
leaning forward and dropping the eyeglass through which he had been
staring at Jacob. "Seems to me I am as likely to land the fish as any
of you."

Sybil thoroughly disliked the conversation and did not hesitate to
disclose her feelings.

"Mr. Pratt is only an acquaintance of mine," she declared, "and I do
not wish to speak to him. If he has the temerity to accost me, I will
introduce you all--not unless. It will serve him right then."

Mason looked at her reprovingly.

"My dear Miss Bultiwell," he said, "in the tortuous course of life,
our daily life, an unpleasant action must sometimes be faced. If you
remember, barely an hour ago, over our cocktails, we declared for a
life of adventure. We paid tribute to the principle that the unworthy
wealthy must support the worthy pauper. We are all worthy paupers."

Grace Powers laughed softly.

"I don't know about the worthiness," she murmured, "but you should see
my dressmaker's bill!"

"Useless, de