The announcement caused Bosworth mentally to eliminate one of the ladies from his list. He gave a deep sigh of relief at that. The daughter of the shamelessly rich Mr. Purdwell was so homely and so vain that she was almost certain to have said "yes"--with all her millions--if he had asked her. He remembered that Miss Hebbins, almost as rich and quite as eager to get into the Four Hundred, was the next on his list. She lived a few blocks farther up the street. "All right, dad. Just push the button when we get to Purdwell's corner. I'm going beyond." Mr. Van Pycke hesitated for a moment. "Would it be too much trouble for you to stop for me on your way down, Bosworth?" "Not at all, dad." As an afterthought he added: "Something tells me I won't be up here long. Can you be ready at half-past ten?" "I think so," said his father, who had some misgivings. The taxi struggled bravely along for a couple of blocks. Bosworth was dozing comfortably. His father, seized by an unwelcome sense of compunction, was turning something over in his mind. In the end, he concluded to break a certain piece of news to his son. "Your mother has been dead for sixteen years, Bosworth." Bosworth opened his eyes. "Yes, sir," he said, trying to guess what was coming. "She was a noble woman, my boy. I--I shall never forget her." "I loved her," said Bosworth, vaguely. "I have always said that a man shouldn't marry a second time," proceeded Mr. Van Pycke. Bosworth sniffed. Mr. Van Pycke went on: "That is, until his first wife has been--er--at rest for fifteen years or more. It's only decent." "I see," said Bosworth, comprehending. "You do?" demanded his father, a bit upset. "Who is she, dad?" Mr. Van Pycke's chin was so far down in the baby lamb that his reply was barely audible. "I hope to be able to tell you in the morning--perhaps late this evening, my son." The young man was smiling in his corner of the cab. "Are you quite sure you love her, dad?" he asked, without guile. Mr. Van Pycke coughed. "Perhaps you'd better wait till morning to tell me that, too," said his son, coming to the rescue. CHAPTER II A YOUNG LADY ENTERS Mr. Van Pycke got down in front of the Purdwell mansion. It must be admitted that he almost funked when he opened the door of the cab and let in a gust of wind and snow that almost took his breath away. But he steeled himself and slipped out into the seething blizzard. He blinked around in all directions as the taxicab chortled off into the white whirlwind. So dense was the flying snow that he could scarcely see the houses on the inner side of the pavement; he was nearly a minute in getting his bearings. Then he shuffled off through the great drifts on the walk, pointed toward a fashionable apartment building whose lights glimmered fantastically against the whistling, shifting screen.