IN THE BEST SOCIETY Grant's electric had swung in at the end of the long line of carriages of all kinds, from coach of ambassador and costly limousine of multi-millionaire to humble herdic wherein poor, official grandee's wife and daughter were feeling almost as common as if they had come in a street car or afoot.

Josh Craig, leaning from the open window, could see the grand entrance under the wide and lofty porte-cochere--the women, swathed in silk and fur, descending from the carriages and entering the wide-flung doors of the vestibule; liveries, flowers, lights, sounds of stringed instruments, intoxicating glimpses of magnificence at windows, high and low.

And now the electric was at the door.

He and Arkwright sprang out, hastened up the broad steps.

His expression amused Arkwright; it was intensely self-conscious, resolutely indifferent--the kind of look that betrays tempestuous inward perturbations and misgivings.