There was just one drawback to the Horse Show, as Montague gathered from the conversation that went on among the callers:  it was public, and there was no way to prevent undesirable people from taking part.  There were, it appeared, hordes of rich people in New York who were not in Society, and of whose existence Society was haughtily unaware; but these people might enter horses and win prizes, and even rent a box and exhibit their clothes.  And they might induce the reporters to mention them—­and of course the ignorant populace did not know the difference, and stared at them just as hard as at Mrs. Robbie or Mrs. Winnie.  And so for a whole blissful week these people had all the sensations of being in Society!  “It won’t be very long before that will kill the Horse Show,” said Mrs. Vivie Patton, with a snap of her black eyes.

There was Miss Yvette Simpkins, for instance; Society frothed at the mouth when her name was mentioned.  Miss Yvette was the niece of a stock-broker who was wealthy, and she thought that she was in Society, and the foolish public thought so, too.  Miss Yvette made a speciality of newspaper publicity; you were always seeing her picture, with some new “Worth creation,” and the picture would be labelled “Miss Yvette Simpkins, the best-dressed woman in New York,” or “Miss Yvette Simpkins, who is known as the best woman whip in Society.”  It was said that Miss Yvette, who was short and stout, and had a rosy German face, had paid five thousand dollars at one clip for photographs of herself in a new wardrobe; and her pictures were sent to the newspapers in bundles of a dozen at a time.  Miss Yvette possessed over a million dollars’ worth of diamonds—­the finest in the country, according to the newspapers; she had spent a hundred and twenty-six thousand dollars this year upon her clothes, and she gave long interviews, in which she set forth the fact that a woman nowadays could not really be well dressed upon less than a hundred thousand a year.  It was Miss Yvette’s boast that she had never ridden in a street-car in her life.

Montague always had a soft spot in his heart for the unfortunate Miss Yvette, who laboured so hard to be a guiding light; for it chanced to be while she was in the ring, exhibiting her skill in driving tandem, that he met with a fateful encounter.  Afterward, when he came to look back upon these early days, it seemed strange to him that he should have gone about this place, so careless and unsuspecting, while the fates were weaving strange destinies about him.

It was on Tuesday afternoon, and he sat in the box of Mrs. Venable, a sister-in-law of the Major.  The Major, who was a care-free bachelor, was there himself, and also Betty Wyman, who was making sprightly comments on the passers-by; and there strolled into the box Chappie de Peyster, accompanied by a young lady.

So many people had stopped and been introduced and then passed on, that Montague merely glanced at her once.  He noticed that she was tall and graceful, and caught her name, Miss Hegan.