And that same day, as it chanced, he learned of a brand-new kind of squandering.  He went home to lunch with Mrs. Winnie Duval, and there met Mrs. Caroline Smythe, with whom he had talked at Castle Havens.  Mrs. Smythe, whose husband had been a well-known Wall Street plunger, was soft and mushy, and very gushing in manner; and she asked him to come home to dinner with her, adding, “I’ll introduce you to my babies.”

From what Montague had so far seen, he judged that babies played a very small part in the lives of the women of Society; and so he was interested, and asked, “How many have you?”

“Only two, in town,” said Mrs. Smythe.  “I’ve just come up, you see.”

“How old are they?” he inquired politely; and when the lady added, “About two years,” he asked, “Won’t they be in bed by dinner time?”

“Oh my, no!” said Mrs. Smythe.  “The dear little lambs wait up for me.  I always find them scratching at my chamber door and wagging their little tails.”

Then Mrs. Winnie laughed merrily and said, “Why do you fool him?” and went on to inform Montague that Caroline’s “babies” were griffons Bruxelloises.  Griffons suggested to him vague ideas of dragons and unicorns and gargoyles; but he said nothing more, save to accept the invitation, and that evening he discovered that griffons Bruxelloises were tiny dogs, long-haired, yellow, and fluffy; and that for her two priceless treasures Mrs. Smythe had an expert nurse, to whom she paid a hundred dollars a month, and also a footman, and a special cuisine in which their complicated food was prepared.  They had a regular dentist, and a physician, and gold plate to eat from.  Mrs. Smythe also owned two long-haired St. Bernards of a very rare breed, and a fierce Great Dane, and a very fat Boston bull pup—­the last having been trained to go for an airing all alone in her carriage, with a solemn coachman and footman to drive him.

Montague, deftly keeping the conversation upon the subject of pets, learned that all this was quite common.  Many women in Society artificially made themselves barren, because of the inconvenience incidental to pregnancy and motherhood; and instead they lavished their affections upon cats and dogs.  Some of these animals had elaborate costumes, rivalling in expensiveness those of their step-mothers.  They wore tiny boots, which cost eight dollars a pair—­house boots, and street boots lacing up to the knees; they had house-coats, walking-coats, dusters, sweaters, coats lined with ermine, and automobile coats with head and chest-protectors and hoods and goggles—­and each coat fitted with a pocket for its tiny handkerchief of fine linen or lace!  And they had collars set with rubies and pearls and diamonds—­one had a collar that cost ten thousand dollars!  Sometimes there would be a coat to match every gown of the owner.  There were dog nurseries and resting-rooms, in which they might be left temporarily; and manicure parlours for cats, with a physician in charge.