The lady’s eyes rested for a moment upon the handsome stranger, and then fell with a peculiar abruptness.
“If that woman plays any star part in his life, I will try and take her away from him,” resolved Vreeland, whose whole soul was now thrilling with the beautiful woman’s sudden, startled admission of interest in a passing stranger. The wine of life stirred in the young wanderer’s veins.
His audacious, familiar sprite suggested the profound bow which was Mr. Harold Vreeland’s first salutation upon the outskirts of the “Four Hundred.”
He had adroitly managed to convey the respectful homage of the salutation by his velvety eyes to the very person intended, for, while Jimmy Potter was placidly listening to the brilliant chatter of two very vivacious rosebuds, Mrs. Elaine Willoughby turned to Hathorn:
“Fred, who is your Western friend?” she asked, with an assumed carelessness.
It was by sheer good luck that Hathorn, who was watching the young millionairess whom he was soon to marry, answered with an unusual warmth:
“An old college chum—Vreeland of Princeton, and a rattling good fellow.”
Fred Hathorn eyed with a certain qualminess the easy aplomb of his Crœsus partner, as Jimmy Potter pressed closely to the side of Hathorn’s destined bride, Miss Moneybags.
That young lady was destined to play the rôle of Queen of Diamonds in the ambitious young banker’s life.
He had resolutely set up the motto, “Aut Cæsar, aut nullus,” and he was just a bit shy of the beloved James trifling with his dashing fiancée