All the time she was spilling her familiar line of Chatter, he would look at her with an arid and patronizing Smile, such as the Harvard Man produces when he finds himself in immediate juxtaposition to some human Caterpillar from west of Pittsburgh. Very often, when the registered Dolly Grays got together for a Bon-Bon Orgy, some one would say, "Oh, Crickey, ain't he the regular Cynic?" Another might suggest that he was hiding a great Sorrow, his whole Existence having been embittered by the faithlessness of some Creature. Then they would take a Vote and decide that he was a plain Mutt. The Chauncey who refuses to reciprocate will excite more Conversation than a regular Union Lover, but it is Lucky for him that he does not hear all the Conversation. Walter at the age of twenty-five thought he was too old and sedate to be a Diner-Out and a Dancing Devil. When he was 28, however, he had become Hep to the large and luminous Truth that the man who sits in his Lodgings reading Dumas may overlook many a Bet. He noted on every Hand the nice-looking Boys who turned in about 10.40 and avoided the Pitfalls of Society, and most of them were pulling down as much as $14 a week. He recalled what this humble Chronicler had said away back in 1899: "Early to Bed and Early to Rise and you will meet very few of our Best People." He looked over the Lay-Out and decided that it was just as easy to mingle with the Face Cards as to sleep in the Discards. He saw many a Light Weight with a gilt sign exposed on Main Street and no Assets except a Suit with a Velvet Collar, a pair of indestructible dancing Legs, and just enough intellectual Acumen to stir Tea without spilling it. So he decided to have a try at the Gay Life and worm his way into the Safety Deposit Vaults via the Parlor Route. A worthy Resolve and one often taken. If a Friend of the People can capitalize his Vocal Cords, why should not the little Brother of the Rich put his undying Nerve into the Market and get what he can on it? The Captain of Finance is usually owned, Body and Soul, by the other Half of the Sketch. She may be a head bell-ringer in the D. A. R. or the blue-pencil Queen of the Golden Pheasants, but in a vast majority of cases she has not the Looks to back up the Title. Even the Buckingham Palace manner and the Arctic Front cannot buffalo the idle Spectator into overlooking the fact that she belongs to the genus Quince. She may not be a Beaut, but it is She who stands at the main entrance to the Big Tent and tears off seat coupons. Walter knew that if he wished to be mentioned all over town as a Sure-Enough, his passport to the Inner Circle of Hot Potatoes would have to be vised by Patroness No. 1. He began to work in the Secret Service of the Chosen Few and was First Aid to the Chaperons. A Hard Life, say you? Not a tall--not a tall. He was entirely surrounded by Fairy Lamps and sweet-smelling Flowers. Life became a kaleidoscopic Aurora Borealis.