tered the drawing-room at Mr.
and Mrs. Birtwell's, leaning on her husband's arm, a ripple of
admiration was seen on many faces, and the question, "Who is she?" was
heard on many lips. Mrs. Abercrombie was a centre of attraction that
evening, and no husband could have been prouder of such a distinction
for his wife than was the general. He, too, found himself an object of
interest and attention. Mr. Birtwell was a man who made the most of his
guests, and being a genuine _parvenu_, did not fail through any
refinement of good breeding in advertising to each other the merits or
achievements of those he favored with introductions. If he presented a
man of letters to an eminent banker, he informed each in a word or two
of the other's distinguished merits. An officer would be complimented
on his rank or public service, a scientist on his last book or essay, a
leading politician on his statesmanship. At Mr. Birtwell's you always
found yourself among men with more in them than you had suspected, and
felt half ashamed of your ignorance in regard to their great
achievements.

General Abercrombie, like many others that evening, felt unusually well
satisfied with himself. Mr. Birtwell complimented him whenever they
happened to meet, sometimes on his public services and sometimes on the
"sensation" that elegant woman Mrs. Abercrombie was making. He grew in
his own estimation under the flattering attentions of his host, and
felt a manlier pride swelling in his heart than he had for some time
known. His bearing became more self-poised, his innate sense of
strength more apparent. Here was a man among men.

This was the general's state of mind when, after an hour, or two of
social intercourse, he entered the large supper-room, whither he
escorted a lady. He had not seen his wife for half an hour. If she had
been, as usual on such occasions, by his side, he would have been on
guard. But the lady who leaned on his arm was not his good angel. She
was a gay, fashionable woman, and as fond of good eating and drinking
as any male epicure there. The general was polite and attentive, and as
prompt as any younger gallant in the work of supplying his fair
companion with the good things she was so ready to appropriate.

"Will you have a glass of champagne?"

Of course she would. Her eyebrows arched a little in surprise at the
question. The general filled a glass and placed it in her hand. Did she
raise it to her lips? No; she held it a little e