when newspaper men are doing their duty they must necessarily fail,
to their great personal regret, in the observance of some of the nicer
courtesies."

Mrs. De Peyster was almost inarticulate.

"Who--who are you?"

"Mayfair is my name. Of the 'Record.'"

"The 'Record'! That yellow, radical paper!"

Mr. Mayfair stepped nearer. His voice sank to an easy, confidential
tone.

"You are misled by appearances, Mrs. De Peyster. Every paper has got
to have a policy; we're the common people's paper--big circulation,
you know; and we so denounce the rich on our editorial page. But as
a matter of fact we give our readers more live, entertaining, and
respectful matter about society people than any other paper in New
York. It's just what the common people love. And now"--easily shifting
his base--"about this reported engagement of your son and Miss
Quintard. As you know, it's the best 'romance in high life' story of
the season. Will you either confirm or deny the report?"

"I have nothing whatever to say," flamed out Mrs. De Peyster. "And
will you leave this house instantly!"

"Ah, Miss Quintard's mother would not deny it either," commented Mr.
Mayfair with his polite imperturbability. His sharp eyes glinted with