s well within Goodhue's vision, and
acceptably so; but the young man had not shown the slightest interest in
his past or his lack of the right friends before coming to Princeton. At
any moment he might.

The Goodhue house was uptown between Fifth and Madison avenues. It was
as unexpected to George as Wandel's green study had been. The size of
its halls and rooms, the tasteful extravagance of its decorations, the
quiet, liveried servants took his breath. It was difficult not to say
something, to withhold from his glance his admiration and his lack of
habit.

There he was at last, handing his hat and coat to one who bent
obsequiously. He felt a great contempt. He told himself he was unjust,
as unjust as Sylvia, but the contempt persisted.

There were details here more compelling than anything he had seen or
fancied at Oakmont. The entire household seemed to move according to a
feudal pattern. Goodhue's father and mother welcomed George, because
their son had brought him, with a quiet assurance. Mrs. Goodhue, George
felt, might even appreciate what he was doing. That was the outstanding,
the feudal, quality of both. They had an air of unprejudiced judgment,
of removal from any selfish struggle, of being placed beyond question.

Goodhue and George dined at a club that night. They saw Wandel and
Dalrymple, the latter flushed and talking louder than he should have
done in an affected voice. They went to the theatre, and afterward drove
up Fifth Avenue to Betty's party. George was dazzled, and every moment
conscious of the effort to prevent Goodhue's noticing it. His excitement
increased as he came to the famous establishment in the large ballroom
of which Betty was waiting, and, perhaps, already, Sylvia. To an extent
the approaching culmination of his own campaign put him at ease; lifted
him, as it were, above details; left him free to face the moment of his
challenge.

The lower halls were brilliant with pretty, eager faces, noisy with
chatter and laughter, a trifle heady from an infiltration of perfumes.

Wandel joined them upstairs and took George's card, returning it after a
time nearly filled.

"When you see anybody you particularly want to dance with," he advised
secretly, "just cut in without formality. The mere fact of your presence
ought to be introduction enough. You see everybody here knows, or thinks
he knows, everybody else."

George wondered why Wandel went out of his way, and in that particular
direct