Blair flushed. “I’ll get to hate the whole thing,” he said ferociously. “It meets me everywhere—bonds—stocks—figures—dividends —coupons—deeds—it’s too much!” he said suddenly, with resentment. “It is too much for me. Why, sometimes I feel a hundred years old, and like a hunk of gold.” Ruggles, in answer to this, said: “Why, that reminds me of what a man remarked about your father once. It was the same English chap your father bought the claim of. Speaking of Blair, he said to me: ‘You know there’s all kinds of metal bars, and when you cut into them some is bullion and some’s coated with aluminum, and there’s others that when you cut down, cut a clean yellow all along the line.’ If, as you say, you feel like a hunk of metal, it ain’t bad if it is that kind.” “It’s got to stop coming in between me and the woman I marry, all right, though.” Dan did not pursue his subject further, for his feelings about the duchess were too unreal to give him the sincere heartiness with which he would have liked to answer Ruggles. He went over to the window, and, with his hands in his pockets, stood looking out at the fog. Ruggles, at the table, opened the cover of the book of _Mandalay_ and took out the four checks made out to Lady Galorey and which he had forgotten. He hurriedly thrust them into his pocket. “Come away, Dannie,” he said cheerfully, “let’s do something wild. I feel up to most anything with this miserable fog down on me. If it had any nerve it would take some form or shape, so a man could choke it back.” Ruggles blew his nose violently. “There’s nothing to do,” said Dan in a bored tone. “Why don’t you see who your telegram is from?” Ruggles asked him. It proved to be a suggestion from Gordon Galorey that Dan should meet him at five o’clock at the club. “What will you do, Rug?” “Sleep,” said the Westerner serenely; “I’m nearly as happy in London as I am in Philadelphia. It’s four o’clock now and I can’t sleep more than four hours anyway. Let’s have a real wild time, Dannie.” Dan looked at him doubtfully, but Ruggles’ eyes were keen. “What kind of a time do you mean?” “Let’s ask the Gaiety girl for dinner—for supper after the theater.” “Letty Lane? She wouldn’t go.” “Why not?” “She is awfully delicate; it is all she can do to keep her contracts.” He knows that, Ruggles thought. “Let’s ask her and see.” He went over to the table and drew out the paper. “Come on and write and ask her to go out with us to supper.” “See here, Rug, what’s this for?” “What’s strange in it? She is from our state, and if you don’t hustle and ask her I am going to ask her all alone.” Dan was puzzled as he sat down to the table, reflecting that it was perfectly possible that old Ruggles had fallen a prey to the charms of an actress. She wouldn’t come, of course. He wrote a formal invitation without thinking very much of what he said or how, folded and addressed his note. “What did you say?” Ruggles asked eagerly.