Then, realizing that he would have to begin at the beginning, he proceeded to explain that Reggie Mann was a cotillion leader, the idol of the feminine side of society.  He was the special pet and protege of the great Mrs. de Graffenried, of whom they had surely heard—­Mrs. de Graffenried, who was acknowledged to be the mistress of society at Newport, and was destined some day to be mistress in New York.  Reggie and Oliver were “thick,” and he had stayed in town on purpose to attend to her attiring—­having seen her picture, and vowed that he would make a work of art out of her.  And then Mrs. Robbie Walling would give her a dance; and all the world would come to fall at her feet.

“You and I are going out to ‘Black Forest,’ the Wallings’ shooting-lodge, to-morrow,” Oliver added to his brother.  “You’ll meet Mrs. Robbie there.  You’ve heard of the Wallings, I hope.”

“Yes,” said Montague, “I’m not that ignorant.”

“All right,” said the other, “we’re to motor down.  I’m going to take you in my racing-car, so you’ll have an experience.  We’ll start early.”

“I’ll be ready,” said Montague; and when his brother replied that he would be at the door at eleven, he made another amused note as to the habits of New Yorkers.

The price which he paid at the hotel included the services of a valet or a maid for each of them, and so when their baggage arrived they had nothing to do.  They went to lunch in one of the main dining-rooms of the hotel, a room with towering columns of dark-green marble and a maze of palms and flowers.  Oliver did the ordering; his brother noticed that the simple meal cost them about fifteen dollars, and he wondered if they were to eat at that rate all the time.

Then Montague mentioned the fact that before leaving home he had received a telegram from General Prentice, asking him to go with him that evening to the meeting of the Loyal Legion.  Montague wondered, half amused, if his brother would deem his old clothing fit for such a function.  But Oliver replied that it would not matter what he wore there; he would not meet anyone who counted, except Prentice himself.  The General and his family were prominent in society, it appeared, and were to be cultivated.  But Oliver shrewdly forbore to elaborate upon this, knowing that his brother would be certain to talk about old times, which would bo the surest possible method of lodging himself in the good graces of General Prentice.

After luncheon came Reggie Mann, dapper and exquisite, with slender little figure and mincing gait, and the delicate hands and soft voice of a woman.  He was dressed for the afternoon parade, and wore a wonderful scarlet orchid in his buttonhole.  Montague’s hand he shook at his shoulder’s height; but when Alice came in he did not shake hands with her.  Instead, he stood and gazed, and gazed again, and lifting his hands a little with excess of emotion, exclaimed, “Oh, perfect! perfect!”