We make the way of this door broad and smooth and flowery, full of pleasantness and enticement.

We hold out our hands, we smile with encouragement, we step inside of the door to show them the way." In her ardor the lady half forgot herself, and stopped suddenly as she observed that two or three of the company who stood near had been listening.
Meantime, Blanche Birtwell had managed to get Whitford away from the table, and was trying to induce him to leave the supper-room.

She hung on his arm and talked to him in a light, gay manner, as though wholly unconscious of his condition.

They had reached the door leading into the hall, when Whitford stopped, and drawing back, said: "Oh, there's Fred Lovering, my old college friend.

I didn't know he was in the city." Then he called out, in a voice so loud as to cause many to turn and look at him, "Fred! Fred! Why, how are you, old boy?
This is an unexpected pleasure." The young man thus spoken to made his way through the crowd of guests, who were closely packed together in that part of the room, some going in and some trying to get out, and grasping the hand of Whitford, shook it with great cordiality.
"Miss Birtwell," said the latter, introducing Blanche.