s fads, and especially to its beaux. Set might come and set might
go, but she came out forever; and some nameless tact implied to every
_debutante_, what Micawber forced upon Copperfield with the brutality
of words, that she was the "friend of her youth."

So, already, Miss Wood was prime favorite and prime minister at the
home-court of the confiding Blanche, who, spite of brave heart and
strong will of her own, fluttered not unnaturally in the unwonted buzz
and glare of her new life. But most particularly had Rose Wood warned
her against the flirts and "unsafe men" of their set; including, of
course, Vanderbilt Morris and her present partner of the ball in the
ranks of both.

That partner, Andrew Browne, was avowedly the best _parti_ of the
entire set. Handsome, fun-loving, and well-cultivated, he was that
_rara avis_ among society beaux, a thorough gentlemen by instinct; but
he was lazily given to self-indulgence, and had the prime weakness of
being utterly incapable of saying "no," to man or woman. The intimate
friend and room-mate of Van Morris for many years, Browne had never
lost a sort of reverence for the superior force and decision of the
other's character; and, though but a few years his junior, in all
serious social matters he literally sat at his feet.

And Morris had always grown restive when Miss Rose Wood made one of
her "dead sets" at Andy's face and fortune; for a far-away experience
of his own, in that quarter, had taught him how small an objection to
that maiden would be a fortune with the man whom she blessed with her
affection.

"And _that_ brand of the wine of the heart," he had once cautioned
Andy, "does not improve with age."

Doubtful of that young gentleman's confident response, that
"_he_ was not to be caught with chaff," Van still kept watch and
ward. So, leaving the elegant book-room of the elegant avenue
mansion--converted, for the nonce, into an elegant bar-room for Mr.
Trotter Upton and his friends--Morris sauntered through knots of
pretty women and of pretty vacuous-looking men, resting on seats
half-hidden in potted plants, and approached the pair interesting
him most.

Neither glowed with delight at his advent, although Andy seemed only
to be rattling off common-places, in peculiarly voluble style. Morris
asked for the next waltz; Miss Wood glanced shyly up at her companion,
dropped her eyes demurely, and believed she would rest until the
_cotillon_. Then, after a few more smal