k? Answer: eight.

Then a swinging Gallop for home. Whilst she had been socializing
around, Robert W. Chambers had taken a lead of two Novels on her.
Retiring to a quiet Alcove with four Volumes that were being dissected
at the drawing-room Clinics, she took a hack at the first and last
Chapter of each. Just enough to protect her against a Fumble if she
found herself next to a Book Sharp.

That evening a famous Hungarian Fiddler, accompanied by a warbling
Guinea Hen and backed up by sixty Symphonic Heineys wearing Spectacles,
was giving a Recital for the True Lovers in a Mammoth Cave devoted to
Art.

Loretta had a sneaking preference for the May Irwin School of
Expression, but she had to go through with the Saint-Saens Stuff now
and then to maintain a Club Standing.

Accordingly she and Mother and poor old dying Father, with no Heart in
the Enterprise, were planted well down in Section B, where they could
watch Mrs. Leroy Geblotz, who once entertained Nordica, and say "Bravo"
at the Psychological Moment.

On Saturday Morning, after she had penned 14 Epistles, using the tall
cuneiform Hieroglyphics, she didn't have a blessed thing to do before
her 1 o'clock Engagement except drop in at a Flower Show and a Cat
Show and have her Palm read by a perfectly fascinating Serpent with a
Goatee who had been telling all the Gells the most wonderful things
about themselves.

A merry little Group went slumming Saturday afternoon. They attended
a Ball Game. Loretta had her Chin over the Railing and evinced a keen
Interest, her only Difficulty being that she never knew which Side was
at bat.

At dusk she began hanging on the Family Jewels. It was a formal Dinner
Party with a list made up by Dun and Bradstreet.

Loretta found herself between an extinct Volcano of Political World and
a sappy Fledgling whose Grandfather laid the cornerstone of Brooklyn.

The Dinner was one of those corpseless Funerals, stage-managed by a
respectable Lady with a granite Front who had Mayflower Corpuscles
moving majestically through her Arterial System.

Loretta was marooned so far from the Live Ones that she couldn't wig-
wag for Help. Her C. Q. D. brought no Relief.

She threw about three throes of Anguish before they escaped to the
private Gambling Hell.

Here she tucked back her Valenciennes and proceeded to cop a little
Pin-Money at the soul-destroying game known as Bridge.

At 11.30 she led a highly connected volunteer Wine Pu