one with another. Then presently, having dressed, he
issued forth. But he had omitted to look at the evening papers. He was
interested in certain stocks, and to learn what they were doing he
stopped in at a neighboring club. There encountering men who asked him
to drink, he accepted--though how much he was on the morrow unable to
recall. Yet at the time the effect of the stuff, while insidious, was
not apparent. When ultimately he reached the aviary he was feeling
merely fit, a feeling which the dinner increased.

The dinner, perfect in itself, was perfectly served. The appointments
were superior and the table a delight. Loftus when he did things did
them well. Marie, in a creation of Paquin, imported by Annette, was a
pleasure to behold. She had Orr at her right, Annandale at her left.
Between them and Loftus were half a dozen other men. All were decorous
and beautifully behaved. Except for the absence of feminine guests and
one thing else, there was nothing to denote that they were not at the
house of some smart young married woman. There was not a word uttered
that could not have been bawled through a ballroom. There was not a
suggestion not eminently discreet. In this respect only did the dinner
differ from any other at which you might assist in the upper circles
of New York life.

During the preliminary courses stocks were the sole topic. There was a
boom on in the Street. Everybody was making money, including Marie,
for whom Loftus had bought a few hundred A. O. T.

Orr alone had sold. "You are all mad," he declared. "The whole city
is crazy. The country is on a debauch. Bulls cannot live forever. The
corridas of the Street are just like those of Spain. It is the climax
that differs. There the ring is swept by a supe, here it is struck by
a crisis. That crisis may come next week, next month, next year. But
it will come. It can no more desert the heavens of political economy
than the stars can deviate from their course. It is not here yet, the
bull is very lively, he is tossing everything sky high, but just when
he is at his best and fiercest, just when you are shouting yourselves
hoarse, the great espada, whose name is Time, with one swift thrust
will transfix him. That is the fate of bulls."

"We are to be transfixed, are we?" said Annandale.

Marie looked over at Loftus. "Had I not better sell?"

Orr turned to her. "No; hold on and lose. A loss, particularly a fist
loss, is always a good investment. Besid