"My daughter will take you--you must know his mother's friends," the old
gentleman rejoined while Mrs. Marvell smiled noncommittally.

"But you have a great friend of your own--the lady who takes you into
society," Mr. Dagonet pursued; and Undine had the sense that the
irrepressible Mabel was again "pushing in."

"Oh, yes--Mabel Lipscomb. We were school-mates," she said indifferently.

"Lipscomb? Lipscomb? What is Mr. Lipscomb's occupation?"

"He's a broker," said Undine, glad to be able to place her friend's
husband in so handsome a light. The subtleties of a professional
classification unknown to Apex had already taught her that in New York
it is more distinguished to be a broker than a dentist; and she was
surprised at Mr. Dagonet's lack of enthusiasm.

"Ah? A broker?" He said it almost as Popple might have said "A
DENTIST?" and Undine found herself astray in a new labyrinth of social
distinctions. She felt a sudden contempt for Harry Lipscomb, who had
already struck her as too loud, and irrelevantly comic. "I guess
Mabel'll get a divorce pretty soon," she added, desiring, for personal
reasons, to present Mrs. Lipscomb as favourably as possible.

Mr. Dagonet's handsome eye-brows drew together. "A divorce? H'm--that's
bad. Has he been misbehaving himself?"

Undine looked innocently surprised. "Oh, I guess not. They like each
other well enough. But he's been a disappointment to her. He isn't