Stephanie Lorraine, choosing a round-about route through the Park, drove slowly homeward--passing on the way numerous acquaintances and erstwhile friends, who, if they were men, looked their surprise and spoke pleasantly; if they were women, pretended not to see her, or, having seen her, either looked away or bowed distantly--very distantly. The more unstable their social position the more distant was the bow. Just at the exit from the Park, her Victoria was stopped by a sudden congestion in the traffic ahead. Preoccupied, she did not notice it until she heard a voice exclaim: "Why, Stephanie Lorraine!" Gladys Chamberlain in riding togs and crop was at the curb and holding out her hand in greeting. "You dear girl! How do you do?" "Pretty fit, thank you," Stephanie smiled. "When did you get back?" "Several days ago. I'm at my mother's,--if you care to come around." "Why _surely_ I'll be around, Stephanie--I'd ride back with you now, but I expect to meet my groom here with my mare. Will you be home to-morrow?" Mrs. Lorraine looked at her intently for an instant. "Do you appreciate just what you are doing?" she asked. "Certainly I do--I'm going to visit an old friend--who is a friend still--and always will be, I hope." Stephanie put out her hand again. "Thank you, Gladys, but I think you ought to know that the Club-house piazza refused to recognize me a few minutes ago." "I'm not controlled by the Club-house piazza, Stephanie dear," said Miss Chamberlain gently. "You may be very lonely in your friendship," Stephanie warned. "The only two who spoke to me at the Club were Montague Pendleton and Sheldon Burgoyne--the rest didn't even see me." "I would bank on Pendleton, and on Burgoyne, too. They are _men_." "They came to the front of the house to meet me--assisted me from the carriage--escorted me through the crowd to their table--sat with me--and Montague went back with me and put me in the Victoria. It was a brave thing to do--and I told him so." "How like Montague Pendleton," said Gladys. "And it was brave too of you to go there and beard the old dowagers and tabbies to their very faces. They can't but respect you for it." "They are more likely to view it as shameless effrontery," Stephanie answered. "Let them--they are apt to say anything for a time. Then they will hurt themselves playing follow-my-leader--and trying to distance her." [Illustration: THE OFFENDER] "Who is the leader?" Stephanie smiled. "Whoever starts first," said Miss Chamberlain contemptuously. "They're all afraid to commence anything unconventional, but when _one_ ventures they all break after her, and then it's bally-ho! for the race. You've noticed it, surely?" "I can't say I have--but then I've not been very observant of the dowagers and the tabbies."