"Robert! _He_ can’t keep Hutchins Burley from persecuting me." "Or you from persecuting Hutchins Burley." "Don’t be nasty, Cornelia," said Mazie, jumping angrily down. "You take the cinnamon bun, anyway. Why didn’t you pipe up sooner with the news that Claude had rung up?" "I quite forgot to," said her friend, calmly. "Forgot to!" said Mazie, not concealing either her incredulity or her vexation. "A fat lot you did. It’s your spite. Your refusing to come to the ball is spite, too. Just spite. I suppose you think that since you can’t have Claude, nobody else shall have him, either." "I don’t think about Lothario at all," said Cornelia, demurely placid, as she could afford to be in view of the infuriated state in which Mazie burst from the room. The silence which had fallen on the scene during this conflict was soon broken, and gayety was gradually restored. "Who is Lothario?" asked Janet, recovering her spirits more slowly than the others. "That’s Claude Fontaine, the son of Fontaine the jeweler. You know Fontaine’s, the big jewelry and art establishment on Fifth Avenue?" "Oh, yes." "Well, he’s _that_ Fontaine. Very good looking as well as very rich. All the Lorillard girls are dippy about him. So am I. And so will you be." "Do you think so?" asked Janet, hopefully, for she was thirsting for any new experience. "I’m sure of it. But I hope you won’t dream of marrying Lothario. Chiefly for the reason that it would be useless. He comes here too well armed and well seasoned against matrimonial schemes." She added that, in spite of this obvious fact, nearly all the Lorillard girls of the Outlaw brand had their caps set at the young millionaire. "On principle, they’re all opposed to marriage," she proceeded. "But they’re all ready to sacrifice this principle in such a very profitable cause." This bitter remark was the first hint Janet received of a cleavage between Cornelia’s theories and the theories or practices of the other model tenementers. "And Mazie wants to marry him, too?" she asked. "Marry him?—Well, _get_ him," answered Cornelia languidly. "Mazie has the mating instincts of a pussy cat and the brains of a pigeon. Hello, where’s Robert?" she added, missing him. "He slips away the moment one’s eyes are taken off him." As if in answer to her call, Robert came back, bringing Mazie in tow. Shortly after her wrathful exit, he had unobtrusively gone out to smooth down her ruffled feelings. An explosion of Mazie’s temper was like the backfire of a motor car; there was a loud report and much smoke, but no damage done or permanent hard feeling caused—at least, not to herself. Thus, a good dose of flattery, which Robert skillfully administered, had set her going equably again; for, besides being dependent on Cornelia, Mazie was too much occupied with the satisfaction of her desires to prolong a quarrel in support of her rights.