she gave him a
little extra pressure of the hand, and said, "I'm so glad you came.
Ollie has told me all about you." Her voice was soft and melting, not
so forbidding as her garb.

Montague ran the gauntlet of the other guests: Charlie Carter, a
beautiful, dark-haired boy, having the features of a Greek god, but a
sallow and unpleasant complexion; Major "Bob" Venable, a stout little
gentleman with a red face and a heavy jowl; Mrs. Frank Landis, a
merry-eyed young widow with pink cheeks and auburn hair; Willie Davis,
who had been a famous half-back, and was now junior partner in the
banking-house; and two young married couples, whose names Montague
missed.

The name written on his card was Mrs. Alden. She came in just after
him--a matron of about fifty, of vigorous aspect and ample figure,
approaching what he had not yet learned to call embonpoint. She wore
brocade, as became a grave dowager, and upon her ample bosom there lay
an ornament the size of a man's hand, and made wholly out of blazing
diamonds--the most imposing affair that Montague had ever laid eyes
upon. She gave him her hand to shake, and made no attempt to disguise
the fact that she was looking him over in the meantime.

"Madam, dinner is served," said the stately butler; and the glittering
procession moved into the dining-room--a huge state apartment, finished
in some lustrous jet-black wood, and with great panel paintings
illustrating the Romaunt de la Rose. The table was covered with a cloth
of French embroidery, and gleaming with its load of crystal and gold
plate. At either end there were huge candlesticks of solid gold, and in
the centre a mound of orchids and lilies of the valley, matching in
colour the shades of the candelabra and the daintily painted menu cards.

"You are fortunate in coming to New York late in life," Mrs. Alden was
saying to him. "Most of our young men are tired out before they have
sense enough to enjoy anything. Take my advice and look about
you--don't let that lively brother of yours set the pace for you."

In front of Mrs. Alden there was a decanter of Scotch whisky. "Will you
have some?" she asked, as she took it up.

"No, I thank you," said he, and then wondered if perhaps he should not
have said yes, as he watched the other select the largest of the
half-dozen wine-glasses clustered at her place, and pour herself out a
generous libation.

"Have you seen much of the city?" she asked, as she tossed it
off--without a