bear him. You see, she started out by being quite nice to him—for you know how he did distinguish himself at college, and that gave him a start here. Sally invited him to several things—I suppose as much as anything to see what he was like. Girls have to do that sometimes, you know. And then the first thing—he disgusted her by being in love with her. You can imagine how indignant she felt. Inviting a person to your house is one thing—but letting him care for you—when he's a certain kind of person—is another. Sally does n't speak to him now; it's always interesting to see them at the same place together."
"It must be," Floyd said grimly. "But he is n't one of us. Who are the people that make up 'us'? Would I be counted in? Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings."
She was not very intelligent, and she was so absorbed in her own point of view that she quite missed his irony.
"Oh dear, yes," she laughed gayly. "Of course you're in. Why, did n't you see the list of the Hundred and Fifty?"
"The what?"
"The Hundred and Fifty. Avalon is n't big enough, like New York, to have a Four Hundred; so last winter Tom Gary made out a list of the Hundred and Fifty, arranging them in order of precedence—and printed it in his Gazette; you know he owns the Avalon Social Gazette. He did it more as a joke than anything else, I guess; but it was a pretty fair list and it made some people awfully mad because their names were left off, and others because they came behind somebody else. Tom likes to get up a joke like that; he has the greatest amount of nerve."
"Nerve!" cried Floyd. "I call it impudence. And the fellow that did that is considered one of 'us'?" He stared across the room at Tom Gary, who was gracefully amusing an audience by decking himself with all the favors within reach.
