Sheldon Burgoyne entered, stopped a moment with a quizzical smile, and without a word sat down. It was not a time for speech--_on his part_. Pendleton presently retrieved the stud and arose, red in the face and angry. "Why didn't you say something?" he demanded. "I thought it was a time to be quiet," Burgoyne replied. Pendleton paused, with the stud half in, and looked at him. "Hum!" he grunted. "You _do_ have a glimmering of sense, it seems! Why is it, if you drop a stud or a collar button in a room a hundred feet square with only one piece of furniture in the place, the infernal thing will dash under it? Talk of a chicken, or a mule, or a pig--they're not in it with the article under discussion." "So I have observed!" Burgoyne remarked. "The chap who invents a non-hiding stud will make his everlasting fortune. Of course, the reason for the seemingly peculiar is perfectly evident--it is the law of direction and applied force, that's all. I'll illustrate it on you, if you wish." "It is not at all necessary!" said Pendleton. "Is every one here, I wonder." "Yes--you're the laggard--you're generally the laggard.--Why didn't you ever marry, Pendleton?" "Because I was too much occupied attending to my own business," Pendleton answered. "I had never observed it!" the other grinned. "There is nothing peculiar about that--you never observe anything but the ladies." "Do you criticise my taste?" "Far be it from me!" Pendleton laughed. "Who are here--do you know?" "Dorothy Tazewell, Helen Burleston and Marcia Emerson, the men are Steuart Cameron and Warwick Devereux. We all came down on the same train. Stephanie Lorraine, I understand, came yesterday." "Thank heaven, it is a congenial crowd! How is Miss Emerson--as fascinatingly pretty as ever?" "More so!--More so!" exclaimed Burgoyne. "She is pushing Stephanie hard for first place," with a bland smile--which Pendleton saw but did not remark. That he had admired Stephanie Mourraille was no secret, Pendleton knew; and that the admiration had not decreased since she had become Stephanie Lorraine, Society could very readily infer. For his part, he did not care what they inferred; and when he had intimated to Stephanie that he might be coming around her too much, she had put her hand on his shoulder--he could feel it there now--and had asked him, if _he_ objected? Her inference was too plain to miss and he said no more--at the time--though he felt a bit culpable for not doing it. "How are you and Devereux hitting it?" he asked, to shift the talk. "Not in time!" smiled Burgoyne,--"not at all in time. It's like a two-step and a schottische." "Who's doing the schottische?" "Both--at different periods. Miss Emerson is the only one who is always in step." "Because she makes the step?" Pendleton laughed. "You rather like to dance, don't you, Burgoyne?"