steady stream of visitors, who came to
congratulate her upon their successes, and to commiserate with Mrs.
Chauncey Venable over the sufferings of the un-happy victim of a
notoriety-seeking district attorney.

There was just one drawback to the Horse Show, as Montague gathered
from the conversation that went on among the callers: it was public,
and there was no way to prevent undesirable people from taking part.
There were, it appeared, hordes of rich people in New York who were not
in Society, and of whose existence Society was haughtily unaware; but
these people might enter horses and win prizes, and even rent a box and
exhibit their clothes. And they might induce the reporters to mention
them--and of course the ignorant populace did not know the difference,
and stared at them just as hard as at Mrs. Robbie or Mrs. Winnie. And
so for a whole blissful week these people had all the sensations of
being in Society! "It won't be very long before that will kill the
Horse Show," said Mrs. Vivie Patton, with a snap of her black eyes.

There was Miss Yvette Simpkins, for instance; Society frothed at the
mouth when her name was mentioned. Miss Yvette was the niece of a
stock-broker who was wealthy, and she thought that she was in Society,
and the foolish public thought so, too. Miss Yvette made a speciality
of newspaper publicity; you were always seeing her picture, with some
new "Worth creation," and the picture would be labelled "Miss Yvette
Simpkins, the best-dressed woman in New York," or "Miss Yvette
Simpkins, who is known as the best woman whip in Society." It was said
that Miss Yvette, who was short and stout, and had a rosy German face,
had paid five thousand dollars at one clip for photographs of herself
in a new wardrobe; and her pictures were sent to the newspapers in
bundles of a dozen at a time. Miss Yvette possessed over a million
dollars' worth of diamonds--the finest in the country, according to the
newspapers; she had spent a hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars
this year upon her clothes, and she gave long interviews, in which she
set forth the fact that a woman nowadays could not really be well
dressed upon less than a hundred thousand a year. It was Miss Yvette's
boast that she had never ridden in a street-car in her life.

Montague always had a soft spot in his heart for the unfortunate Miss
Yvette, who laboured so hard to be a guiding light; for it chanced to
be while she was in the ring, exhibiting h