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           Aboutoneo’clocktheymovedtoMaxim’s,andtwofoundtheminDeviniere’s.Sloanehadbeendrinkingconsecutivelyandwasinastateofunsteadyexhilaration,butAmorywasquitetiresomelysober;theyhadrunacrossnoneofthoseancient,corruptbuyersofchampagnewhousuallyassistedtheirNewYorkparties.TheywerejustthroughdancingandweremakingtheirwaybacktotheirchairswhenAmorybecameawarethatsomeoneatanear-bytablewaslookingathim.Heturnedandglancedcasually...amiddle-agedmandressedinabrownsacksuit,itwas,sittingalittleapartatatablebyhimselfandwatchingtheirpartyintently.AtAmory’sglancehesmiledfaintly.AmoryturnedtoFred,whowasjustsittingdown.

           "Who’sthatpalefoolwatchingus?"hecomplainedindignantly.

           "Where?"criedSloane."We’llhavehimthrownout!"Herosetohisfeetandswayedbackandforth,clingingtohischair."Whereishe?"

           AxiaandPhoebesuddenlyleanedandwhisperedtoeachotheracrossthetable,andbeforeAmoryrealizedittheyfoundthemselvesontheirwaytothedoor.

           "Wherenow?"

           "Uptotheflat,"suggestedPhoebe."We’vegotbrandyandfizz—andeverything’sslowdownhereto-night."

           Amoryconsideredquickly.Hehadn’tbeendrinking,anddecidedthatifhetooknomore,itwouldbereasonablydiscreetforhimtotrotalongintheparty.Infact,itwouldbe,perhaps,thethingtodoinordertokeepaneyeonSloane,whowasnotinastatetodohisownthinking.