When I would dance with Wisteria Plumstone I would take Gladys Underbunk in to supper. But Mrs. Underbunk dances too--superbly. I found her in an exhausted condition on her chair, with Horatio Gastly trying to fan her back to life, and when she had recovered her breath and speech, she explained that she had been dancing with the Earl of Less, who had kept her revolving so rapidly in one direction that she had almost lost consciousness. Dancing with Englishmen, she said, always gave her exactly the same sensation as drowning, but never before had she come so near the bottom. She had been about to go down for the third time when Mr. Gastly thoughtfully bumped into Lord Less, throwing him all out of step with the music, and giving her an opportunity to grasp a chair for support and save herself. Horatio, of course, was claiming his reward, but the delightful woman told him that she had promised it to me, so as we glided around together, she every now and then giving me one of those maddening glances out of the corner of her eye, I had an opportunity to tell her how cut up I was when I went down with my car to take her a spin last week and found that Jumpkin had whirled her away in that dreadful old loco-sewing-machine. She did not say a word, but looked down at her whirling feet, which was wonderfully encouraging. At supper I continued on this line, becoming thoughtless and reckless, as men will sometimes, and, positively, I think I should have made a fool of myself before the bird was served if Evelyn Garish had not burst in and asked Gladys where in the world she met those dreadful Styne people, in whose box she had been at the opera the other night. Mrs. Underbunk replied very quietly that she had just run across them at a house-party at the Duke of Guile's place in Devonshire, last winter. For a moment Mrs. Garish did not seem to have any breath left, and made dough-balls convulsively. Then she said sharply that it was high time the English realized that there were social distinctions in this country, instead of treating those with one generation of American gentlemen behind them with the same consideration as those who had two or three. Mrs. Underbunk said simply that the Stynes were very rich. She has a way of getting right at the heart of everything. But that did not satisfy Evelyn. To get in, something more than mere money should be required, said she, forgetting entirely that the Garishes had been generally snubbed until the old man worked the corner in Western Pacific. I supported Mrs. Underbunk nobly, and declared that I had found the Stynes quite like other people, and would certainly go to the dance they are to give soon at Flurry's. This made Mrs. Garish lose her temper, and she turned abruptly and began to ask Jack Twitter if he had an ace, queen, and seven-spot, which would he lead.