"What, it was you?" said Doré, suddenly enlightened. "Don't wonder you didn't recognize the photo. Belonged to some one on the coast. Wrote my article in Chicago--fake, of course, but highly seasoned. I handed it over as if I owned a Middle West chain of papers; told them I'd go out and work up the names. But the feeling was all right, so it was! The stuff went big; I was fixed!" Doré was on the point of divulging her own experience, and how she had been outstripped; but she held her tongue with a new caution, asking: "But the society game, Estelle--how do you know about that?" "I don't!" she answered frankly. "It started as a joke; it made good! The real Ferdie Amsterdam--that's to say, the last of the line, an old maid called Benticker--got a pain somewhere and was carted off to the hospital. I was put on the column and told to fill it up somehow. I sent in a hurry call to a couple of my friends, Ben Brown and Will Cutter--you know them, big magazine specialists--and we sat down with a couple of weeklies, and doped out a cracker-jack story. It amused them. They used to laugh themselves sick over being Ferdie Amsterdam. Since then we lunch at Lazare's every day and dope it out. And say, the boss is so tickled, he's raised my rates! What do you think of that? 'Course, now I'm getting the jargon, going out and meeting people--" "Going out?" said Doré, opening her eyes. "Some! Ferdie Amsterdam gets a bid to any big affair that's pulled off. Say, the way these leaders of society currycomb your back would paralyze you! Trouble to get information? Why, they're dying to crowd into print!" "And so that's the way you worked it," said Doré musingly. "Sure. Drop in to lunch with me and see the board in session!" Doré liked Estelle Monks. There was something self-reliant and businesslike about her that inspired confidence. She had a big point of view, one who had unbounded charity and understanding. She invited Doré to go with her as her guest to several affairs, musicales, large balls and tableaux, but the invitation was always declined. As she knew her, though, Doré was surprised to find how naturally this confident little worker, with the slow and alluring smile, gathered about her men from the most fashionable sets, men whom she converted into friends, firm in their respect. She admired this gift, knowing how much more difficult it is to establish a friendship than to begin a flirtation.