"How did you know?"
"Kismet! It had to be."
"Are you by any chance—mad?"
"I shouldn't be surprised. Anyhow, I'm a bit mad I wasn't invited. Everybody I know or meet—almost—is either bidden to that party or knows somebody who is. Forgive the interruption.... Anyway," he added, "we're here."
The taxicab was drawing up before an apartment house entrance.
Hastily recovering his hoard of gold-pieces, P. Sybarite jumped out and presented one to the driver.
"Can't change that," said the latter, staring. "Besides, this was a charge call."
"I know," said P. Sybarite apologetically; "but this is for you."
"Good God!" cried the chauffeur.
"And yet," mused P. Sybarite, "they'd have you believe all taxicab chauffeurs mercenary!"