A faintness, less of jealousy than despair, made RoBards put down his Madeira glass so sharply that a blotch of the wine darkened the linen of the cloth. He set the glass above the stain lest the hostess see him and want to murder him. And this blunder completed his misery. But Patty stared up into Webster’s eyes as if she had never seen a man before. By this time Mr. Webster was well toward the befuddlement for which he was noted, and his reply was more fervent than elegant: “My dear, ’f you want my assisshance in your father’s—your father’s lawsuit, I shall consider it a prilivege, a glorious pril—op’tunity to pay homage to one of mos’ beau’iful wom’n, one of mos’ charming—Madam, I shallenge you to champ—champagne.” Patty went through the rites again, but put her hand across the glass when the servant would have refilled it. She finished her dessert, and deftly resumed her gloves before the hostess threw down her napkin and rose to lead the ladies to the dressing room. Patty, for all her accepted challenges, was one of the few women who made the door without a waver. Her husband followed her with his eyes and longed to go with her and unpack his heart of the grudge it held. In his very presence she had asked another lawyer to supply the ability she denied him. But he had to stay and watch with disgust the long tippling and prattling and male gossip. A few of the men told stories of excellent spice, but some were as loathsome to his mood as one of the worm-eaten walnuts that he bit into before he realized its estate. He had no stomach for Harry Chalender’s gabble, and found nothing but impudence and bad taste in the problem Chalender posed to poor old Dr. Chirnside. Harry said that he had made a ghastly mistake. In talking to a well-bred young female who had snubbed him for insulting her by offering to help her on with her shawl, he had somehow let slip the obscene word, “corsets.” The young lady pretended not to have understood, but blenched in silence. An old lady who overheard him, however, told him that she was old enough to advise him to apologize for the slip. He promised rashly, but was at his wit’s end for the procedure. “I appeal to you, Dr. Chirnside,” he said, “for spiritual help. How shall I apologize to that young gazelle for using the word ‘corsets’ in her presence—without once more using the word ‘corsets’ in her presence?” Dr. Chirnside took refuge in offended dignity, stated that a word unfit for the female ear was equally unfit for the ear of a gentleman. He choked on a last gulp of port, and moved to the drawing room with more rectitude in his head than his legs. Chalender was rebuked by a solemn gentleman who regretted the increasing indelicacy of manners. If women’s innocence were not protected where would human society look for safety?