He went on speaking before she had a chance to answer him. He was still holding her hand while he spoke. "Oh, by the way, Claire, Goldwin had a good deal to do with my luck. He gave me points, as they say down there. But don't breathe it to a living soul. Goldwin's an awfully good friend of mine, I find, though we haven't always pulled together in a business way." "Yes?" Claire answered. She had somehow got her hand away from his. She was using it to arrange her wrap about the throat. XVII. The gay season had soon set in with full force. It promised to be a season of especial brilliancy. Claire rapidly found people gathering about her. She began to have a little list of her own. The wives of the two gentlemen who had dined with herself and husband in Goldwin's company, each asked herself and husband to dine at their own house. The dinners were both of sumptuous quality, and attended by numerous other guests. Claire made a deep impression at both places. Her toilettes were rich and of unique taste; she was by far the most beautiful woman at either assemblage. The sudden financial glory of Hollister, whose actual wealth was tripled if not quadrupled by rumor, cast about her exceptional grace, beauty, and wit an added halo of distinction. She was the kind of woman whom women like. In not a few of her own sex she quickly roused an enthusiastic partisanship. "You are bound to lead, or nothing," Mrs. Diggs soon said to her. "I see this very clearly, Claire,--though, for that matter, I have seen it all along." "I mean to lead, or nothing," answered Claire, with her superb candor. "Thus far I have not found it difficult." Mrs. Diggs put up her thin forefinger. "Tut, tut," she remonstrated. "Don't be too confident. Ambition _may_ overleap itself. Remember that you are still on the threshold." "I've crossed it," said Claire, laughing. "I've got into the drawing-room."