"How does Annie take her social ostracism?" inquired Underwood. "Like a brick. She's a thoroughbred, all right. She's all to the good." "All the same I'm sorry I ever introduced you to her," replied Underwood. "I never thought you'd make such a fool of yourself as to marry----" Howard shook his head in a maudlin manner, as he replied: "I don't know whether I made a fool of myself or not, but she's all right. She's got in her the makings of a great woman--very crude, but still the makings. The only thing I object to is, she insists on going back to work, just as if I'd permit such a thing. Do you know what I said on our wedding day? 'Mrs. Howard Jeffries, you are entering one of the oldest families in America. Nature has fitted you for social leadership. You'll be a petted, pampered member of that select few called the "400,"' and now, damn it all, how can I ask her to go back to work? But if you'll let me have that $2,000----" By this time Howard was beginning to get drowsy. Lying back on the sofa, he proceeded to make himself comfortable. "Two thousand dollars!" laughed Underwood. "Why, man, I'm in debt up to my eyes." As far as his condition enabled him, Howard gave a start of surprise. "Hard up!" he exclaimed. Pointing around the room, he said: "What's all this--a bluff?" Underwood nodded. "A bluff, that's it. Not a picture, not a vase, not a stick belongs to me. You'll have to go to your father." "Never," said Howard despondently. The suggestion was evidently too much for him, because he stretched out his hand for his whiskey glass. "Father's done with me," he said dolefully. "He'll relent," suggested Underwood. Howard shook his head drowsily. Touching his brow, he said: "Too much brains, too much up here." Placing his hand on his heart, he went on: "Too little down here. Once he gets an idea, he never lets it go, he holds on. Obstinate. One idea--stick to it. Gee, but I've made a mess of things, haven't I?" Underwood looked at him with contempt. "You've made a mess of your life," he said bitterly, "yet you've had some measure of happiness. You, at least, married the woman you love. Drunken beast as you are, I envy you. The woman I wanted married some one else, damn her!" Howard was so drowsy from the effects of the whiskey that he was almost asleep. As he lay back on the sofa, he gurgled: "Say, old man; I didn't come here to listen to hard-luck stories. I came to tell one." In maudlin fashion he began to sing, _Oh, listen to my tale of woe_, while Underwood sat glaring at him, wondering how he could put him out. As he reached the last verse his head began to nod. The words came thickly from his lips and he sank sleepily back among the soft divan pillows. Just at that moment the telephone bell rang. Underwood quickly picked up the receiver. "Who's that?" he asked. As he heard the answer his face lit up and he replied eagerly: "Mrs. Jeffries--yes. I'll come down. No, tell her to come up."