“I never met him, of course; but I see him all the time, because he’s in some of my sections.” “In some of your sections!” cried Sylvia. “And you never met him?” The other laughed. “You see, honey,” he said, “how little you are able to imagine life at Harvard! Douglas, my dear, has been yachting with English peers; he has Scotch earls for ancestors, and an accent that he has acquired in their honor. He sets more store by them, I suppose, than he does by his old Knickerbocker ancestors, who left him several farms between Fifth and Madison Avenues.” “Is he a club man?” asked Sylvia. “He lives to set the social standards for our clubs; a sort of _arbiter elegantiarum_. It’s one of the sayings they attribute to him, that he came to Harvard because American university life was in need of ‘tone.’” “Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Sylvia; and again, in a lower voice, “Oh, dear me!” She pondered, and then with sudden interest inquired, “He’d be a good man for Harley to meet, wouldn’t he?” “None better,” smiled Frank, “if he wants to make the ‘Dickey.’” “Then,” said Sylvia, “he’s the man I’d best go after.” The other laughed. “All right, honey. But you’ll find him hard to interest, I warn you. His career has all been planned—he’s to marry Dorothy Cortlandt, who’ll bring him ten or twenty millions more.” And Sylvia set her lips in a dangerous expression. “He can marry Dorothy Cortlandt,” she said, “but not until I’ve got through with him!” § 3 That evening was reserved for a performance of the “Glee Club;” and just before dinner Harley came in, bubbling over with delight, to say that Harmon had called up and invited him to bring his cousin and share his box. And so behold Sylvia, clad in pale blue silk, with touches of gold embroidery and a gold band across one shoulder, swimming like a new planet into the ken of the watchers of these brilliantly lighted skies. There were few acquaintances of “Bob” Harmon who did not come to the door of the box to get a closer view of the phenomenon; while the delighted cousin found himself besieged. Sedate upper-classmen put their arms across his shoulders, tremendous club-men got him by the coat sleeve in the lobby. “Let us in on that, Chilton!” “Now don’t be a hog, old man!”—“You know me, Chilton!” Yes, Harley knew them all, and calculated to keep knowing them for some time to come. The next morning he came early, and took Sylvia for a drive, to lay before her the whole situation, and coach her for the part she was to play; for this was the enemy’s country, and there were many pitfalls to be avoided.