Madison Mudison was charming. He saved the day. He choked the Countess off, and, pushing his chair back from the table and eying his glass meditatively, he made a delightful little informal speech, forgetting entirely that but a few weeks before at the Radigan dinner he had welcomed Pearl Veal into the family of Smith. As Mrs. Radigan's sister, he said, he regarded Miss Veal as near and dear to him. Were he a younger man, a richer man, a handsomer and a wiser man, he might perhaps be here in a different rôle--with apologies to his host--he might aspire to a relationship still nearer and dearer. Too late in life he had come to realize that love in a cottage was better than bachelorhood in a dozen clubs. His part was to bless the mating of others. He wanted now, speaking for his dear friends, to welcome into the house of Radigan his young host. Money was not all of life; family was not all; brains were not all. He gloried in his young host, who, having none of these things, had come to New York, had made an honored name for himself in the real-estate world, had won the beautiful daughter of one of the city's best families. Miss Veal was lucky to win such a man. His young host was lucky to win such a girl. The Radigans were lucky. We all were lucky. I was just remarking that I believed I was the luckiest man in all the world when the telephone-bell interrupted, and Mrs. Bobbie Williegilt, being nearest it, playfully took up the receiver. She dropped it in a jiffy and sternly called to me. "I was sayin'," came a voice from the office, "that our rules requires that all ladies leaves the buildin' at eleven o'clock." "But--" I began to protest. "We can't make no exceptions," said the idiot in the office. "See here," I began, getting desperate, for I heard Mrs. Williegilt calling for her wraps. "We can't run no risks," said the big, loud voice below. "It's past the hour now." Stalk went down with a five-dollar bill and got an hour's grace, but fifteen minutes was all that was really needed, for by that time Mrs. Williegilt had led my guests on the retreat. CHAPTER XVI _Mrs. Radigan's Costume-ball_ I have just been going over the newspaper accounts of the Radigans' costume-ball, and I must say that the columns and columns devoted to it, speak well for my friends' standing in Society. It is generally conceded that New York has never before seen such a lavish affair, and the estimates of its cost go from $50,000 up. Yet these do not consider the new house, which was built primarily as a place of entertainment, not as a home; so part of the million spent there should be charged against the dance. The whole affair was colossal. But the Radigans are paying the bills without a word, for they are more than satisfied with the advertising they have received. Their position is now absolutely established, and nothing can shake them out of smart society but the loss of their money.