restaurant, three months before.

The cars had stopped running by the time Condy reached the street. He
walked home and flung himself to bed, his mind tired, his nerves
unstrung, and all the blood of his body apparently concentrated in his
brain. Working at night after writing all day long was telling upon
him, and he knew it.

What with his work and his companionship with Blix, Condy soon began to
drop out of his wonted place in his "set." He was obliged to decline
one invitation after another that would take him out in the evening,
and instead of lunching at his club with Sargeant or George Hands, as
he had been accustomed to do at one time, he fell into another habit of
lunching with Blix at the flat on Washington Street, and spending the
two hours allowed to him in the middle of the day in her company.

Condy's desertion of them was often spoken of by the men of his club
with whom he had been at one time so intimate, and the subject happened
to be brought up again one noon when Jack Carter was in the club as
George Hands' guest. Hands, Carter, and Eckert were at one of the
windows over their after-dinner cigars and liqueurs.

"I say," said Eckert suddenly, "who's that girl across the street
there--the one in black, just going by that furrier's sign? I've seen
her somewhere before. Know who it is?"

"That's Miss Bessemer, isn't it?" said George Hands, leaning forward.
"Rather a stunning-looking girl."

"Yes, that's Travis Bessemer," assented Jack Carter; adding, a moment
later, "it's too bad about that girl."

"What's the matter?" asked Eckert.

Carter lifted a shoulder. "Isn't ANYTHING the matter as far as I know,
only somehow the best people have dropped her. She USED to be received
everywhere."

"Come to think, I HAVEN'T seen her out much this season," said Eckert.
"But I heard she had bolted from 'Society' with the big S, and was
going East--going to study medicine, I believe."

"I've always noticed," said Carter, with a smile, "that so soon as a
girl is declassee, she develops a purpose in life and gets earnest, and
all that sort of thing.

"Oh, well, come," growled George Hands, "Travis Bessemer is not
declassee."

"I didn't say she was," answered Carter; "but she has made herself
talked about a good deal lately. Going around with Rivers, as she
does, isn't the most discreet thing in the world. Of course, it's all
right, but it all makes talk, and I came across them by a grove of
trees