young Mr. Smith-Parvis and informed him that he was wanted outside at once.
Stuyvesant's heart leaped. He at once surmised that Miss Emsdale, repentant and envious, had come off her high horse and was eager to get away from the dull, prosaic and stupidly respectable old "parties" over in the corner. Conceivably she had taken a little more champagne than was good for her. He got up immediately, and without so much as a word of apology to his host, made his way eagerly, though unsteadily, to the entrance-hall.
He expected Miss Emsdale to follow; he was already framing in his beaddled brain the jolly little lecture he would give her when—
A red-faced person jostled him in a most annoying manner.
"Look sharp there," said Stuyvie thickly. "Watch where you're going."
"Steady, sir,—steady!" came in a hushed, agitated voice from Mr. Spangler, who appeared to be addressing himself exclusively to the red-faced person. "Let me manage it,—please."
"Who the devil is this bally old blighter?" demanded Stuyvie loudly.
"Leave him to me, Spangler," said the red-faced man. "I have a few choice words I—"
"Here! Confound you! Keep off of my toes, you fool! I say, Spangler, what's the matter with you? Throw him out! He's—"
"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!"
"I ought to knock your block off," said Mr. McFaddan, without raising his voice. As his face was within
