be
privileged to play the game as others played it--with marked cards.

CHAPTER VIII

THE RETURN OF PATSIE

During this time Bojo had seen much of life. Marsh was too busily
occupied in the detailed exploration of the machinery and organization
of his paper to be often available, and Bojo's time was pretty evenly
divided between the formal evenings in Doris's set and the excursions
with Fred DeLancy into regions not quite so orthodox. He began to see a
good deal behind the scenes, to marvel at the unbending of big men of a
certain suddenly enriched type, at their gullibility and curious
vanities of display. He himself had an innate love of refinement and an
olden touch of chivalry in his attitude toward women, and went through
what he saw without more harm than disillusionment, wiser for the
lesson.

To his surprise he found, that what DeLancy had estimated of his social
values was quite true. Fred was in great demand at quiet dances in
discreet salons at Tenafly's and Lazare's, where curious elements
combined to distract the adventurer, rich at forty-five, who, after a
life of Spartan routine, awoke to the call of pleasure and curiosity at
an age when other men have solved their attitude. Fred was looked upon
as a sort of _enfant gate_ to be rewarded after a gay night with an
easily tossed off order for a thousand shares of this or that to make
his commission. It did not take Bojo long to perceive the inherent
weakness in DeLancy's lovable but pleasure-running character, nor to
speculate upon his future with some apprehension, despite all Fred's
protestations that he was shrewd as they are made, and jolly well alive
to the main chance every minute of the day.

Bojo had been admitted far enough into his confidence to know that there
was already some one in the practical background, a Miss Gladys Stone,
financially a prize who had been caught with the volatile gaiety and
amusing tricks of Fred DeLancy. DeLancy in fact, in moments of serious
intimacy, openly avowed his intention of settling down within a year or
two at the most, and Bojo, with the memory of riotous nights from which
he had with difficulty extracted the popular Fred, owned to himself that
the sooner this occurred the better he would be suited.

He had met Gladys Stone once when he had dropped in on Doris, and he had
a blurred recollection of a thin, blond girl, who giggled and chattered
a great deal and spoke several times of being bored by