"He seems to be equally attentive to Christine and Mrs. Wemyss," observed Silvette. "It appears that he and that ample beauty are old friends." "Who is Mrs. Wemyss, anyway?" Silvette smiled. "I asked Mrs. Rivett, saying that there was something familiar about Mrs. Wemyss, and that I had an idea I had seen her somewhere; but Mrs. Rivett didn’t know who she was. She had met her last winter at the Plaza, which is the kind of thing one might have expected—even of Mrs. Rivett, who is as dear a little woman as ever wore sapphires at breakfast.... What a horrid, cynical thing I’m turning into! ... And now I’m going to turn into an imitation of a young girl dressing for luncheon. Heigho! I wish other people were what they ought to be and I were what I’d like to be. The world would wag very well, then." Luncheon was the usual animated, gossipy, and amusing function that Silvette and Diana and Jack Rivett always made it, and at which Colonel Curmew assiduously assisted according to his notions of jollity. Edgerton for the last week or so had remained rather silent among the others, amiable and nice always and perfectly receptive when spoken to, but not volunteering very much, and not, according to Colonel Curmew’s idea, earning his salary. However, as the colonel didn’t like him, that fact may have colored his judgment when he spoke to Mr. Rivett about it after luncheon in the privacy of that silent man’s study. "He’s turned into what I knew he was—a damned snob!" said the colonel, sitting with widened legs, a rich cigar tucked in under his military mustache, and furtively loosening the rear buckle of his white waistcoat. "He doesn’t pay for his keep," he went on. "What use to you is a man who sits around looking unapproachable?" "I have no difficulty in approaching him," observed Mr. Rivett. "You pay him. To look at him, one would think he paid you." "He pays me his services." "Ah, but he doesn’t! He’s off with that little Diana girl half the time." "That’s their affair." "By gad! Is it? They’re both here on a salary if it comes to that, Jake.... Say, did it ever strike you as funny—this cousin business he puts up?" Mr. Rivett’s burned-brown eyes fixed themselves on the jaunty colonel. "How?" "Oh, nothing.... They’re rather distant relatives, that’s all.... Not but what she seems to be straight—as far as I know." "What does anybody else know about her?" "Oh, nothing—nothing," said the colonel, waving his cigar and heavy seal ring. "But it’s curious.... You can’t really say a word against an Edgerton, rich or poor; but, as far as I can see the girl is only a little adventuress looking for trouble.... She’ll probably get it some day," he added with a tenor laugh peculiarly ungrateful to the auditory mechanism of Mr. Rivett. The colonel puffed his cigar in smiling silence for a while; then, expelling another laugh and a large volume of blue smoke, slapped his knee, straightened his tie and waistcoat and shot his cuffs.