Joe Pickering had entirely justified in eight years the misgivings felt toward him by everyone who had Carol Breckenridge’s interests at heart.  His wife had come to him rich, and a few hours after their wedding her father’s death had more than doubled the fortune left her by her grandmother.  But it would be a sturdy legacy indeed that might hope to resist such inroads as the aimless and ill-matched young couple made upon it from their first day together.

Idly acquiring, idly losing, being cheated and robbed on all sides, they drifted through an unhappy and exciting year or two, finally investing much of their money in bonds, and a handsome residue in that favorite dream of such young wasters:  the breeding of horses for the polo market.  “What if we lose it all—­which we won’t—­we’ve still got the bonds!” Joe Pickering, leaden pockets under his eyes, his weak lips hanging loose, had said with his unsteady laugh.  What inevitably followed, and what he had not foreseen, was that he should lose more than half the bonds, too.  They were seriously crippled now, and began to quarrel, to hate each other for a greater part of the time; and their little son’s handsome dark eyes fell on some sad scenes.  But now, in the child’s sixth year, they were still together, still appearing in public, and still, in that mysterious way known only to their type, rushing about on motor parties, buying champagne, and entertaining after a fashion in their cramped but pretentious apartment.

Of late Billy had been seriously considering the stage.  She was but twenty-six, after all, and she still had a girl’s thirst for admiration and for excitement.  She had called on Magsie, entertained the young actress, and the two had discovered a certain affinity.  Magsie was delighted to see her now.  They greeted each other affectionately, and Magsie, sending out her tray, settled herself comfortably in her pillows, and took the interested Carol entirely into her confidence, with the single reservation of Warren Gregory’s name.

“Handsome, and rich as Croesus, and his wife would divorce him, and belongs to one of the best families,” summarized Billy.  “Why, I think you would be a fool to do anything else!”

“S’pose I would,” dimpled Magsie in interesting embarrassment.

“Have a heart, and tell me who it is,” teased Carol, slipping her foot from her low shoe to study a hole in the heel of her silk stocking.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” Magsie protested.

“Well, I shall guess, if I can,” the other woman warned her.  And presently she added:  “I’ll tell you what, if you do give it up, I’m going straight to Bowman, and ask for your place in your new show!  There’s nothing about it that I couldn’t do, and I believe he might give me a chance!  I’ll tell you what:  you wait until the last moment before you tell him, and then he can’t be prepared in advance.  And I’ll risk having Jacqueline make me a couple of gowns, and be all ready to jump in.  I’ll learn the part, too,” said Billy kindling; “you’ll coach me in it, won’t you?”