n in a handsome
apartment in one of the new buildings that were changing the old skyline
of San Francisco. His dancing teas and suppers were admirably appointed
and the most exclusive people went to them.

Ruyler knew his history in a general way. His father had made a fortune
in "Con. Virginia" in the Seventies, and his mother for a few years had
been the social equal of the women who now patronized her son. But
unfortunately the gambling microbe settled down in Harry Doremus' veins,
and shortly after his son was born he engaged his favorite room at the
Cliff House and blew out his brains. His wife was left with a large
house, which as a last act of grace he had forborne to mortgage and made
over to her by deed. She immediately advertised for boarders, and as her
cooking was excellent and she had the wit to drop out of society and give
her undivided attention to business, she prospered exceedingly.

She concentrated her ambitions upon her only child; sent him to a private
school patronized by the sons of the wealthy, and herself taught him
every ingratiating social art. She wanted him to go to college, but by
this time "Nick" was nineteen and as highly developed a snob as her
maternal heart had planned. Knowing that he must support himself
eventually, he was determined to begin his business career at once, and
believed, with some truth, that there was a prejudice in this broad field
against college men. He entered the brokerage firm of a bachelor who had
occupied Mrs. Doremus' best suite for fifteen years, and made a
satisfactory clerk, the while he cultivated his mother's old friends.

When Mrs. Doremus died he sold the house and good will for a considerable
sum, and, combining it with her respectable savings, formed a partnership
with two other young fellows, whose fathers were rich, but old-fashioned
enough to insist that their sons should work. Nick did most of the work.
His partners, during the rainy season, sat with their feet on the
radiator and read the popular magazines, and in fine weather upheld the
outdoor traditions of the state.

The firm had a slender patronage, as Ruyler happened to know, but Doremus
was a member of the Pacific Union Club, and although he dined out every
night, he must have spent six or seven thousand a year. It was amiably
assumed that his social services,--he played and sang and often
entertained exacting groups throughout an entire evening--his fetching
and carrying for one rich o