must get out. And if they don't go
young they don't go at all. San Francisco is a disease. You can't shake
it off. And you don't want to. To Hades with ambition anyhow," he cried,
gayly. "We can admire one another--and we've learned to, instead of
knocking the life out of everybody else as we did a few years ago. Now
we present the unique spectacle of a city packed to the brim with
cleverness and always ready for more. We know how to appreciate. _Vive
la bagatelle._ New York? Why, the spirit and brains would be drained out
of nine-tenths of us trying to keep a roof over our heads, and nobody
knowing we were there. No, _sir_. No, _madam_! The men in this town
realize more and more when they are well off, and here is one of them."
And he refilled his glass.

Isabel, not knowing that she had been listening to the litany of wasted
lives, turned in disgust and cast about for an excuse to leave before
Stone ordered another bottle of champagne. She encountered a gleam of
amusement in Gwynne's eyes, and it seemed to transfer her to an empty
auditorium, while mankind performed its little tricks on the stage for
her sole benefit. It was a subtle tribute, and she blushed under it. She
was also gratified to observe that Paula was boring him. But she glanced
away, lest he should think she had forgiven him. At the same moment she
saw a young man that had sat with his back to them, and opposite the
famous Mrs. Hofer, suddenly push back his chair, rise to his feet, and
look sharply at Gwynne. Then he came rapidly down the room, and Gwynne
rose and met him as if lifted to his feet by the hospitality beaming
from the large bright shrewd capable face of the Californian.

"This is Mr. Gwynne! Is it really?" he exclaimed, taking the stranger's
hand in a large warm grasp. "I am Nicolas Hofer. Your mother wrote you?
We have only been back a short time--I had intended running up to see
you. I knew you for a Britisher the minute you entered the room, but the
word was only just passed about who you were. Do--please--waive
formality and lunch with me at my house to-morrow. Then we'll motor
about a bit and I'll show you something of the city. Glad the fine
weather holds out. No denial. I expect you." And he skilfully took
himself off, before Gwynne should feel obliged to introduce him to his
party.

"Now, what do you think of that for California manners, and the
arrogance of the rich?" demanded Paula, triumphantly.

"Not a bit of it," replied