AN EVENING IN THE RIVER
THOUGH San Marco is a particularly gaudy tassl on the fringe of the tourist's South, it was to the north that Mr. Richard Minot first turned. One hour later he made his appearance amid the gold braid and dignity of the Plaza lobby.
The young man behind the desk—an exquisite creature done in Charles Dana Gibson's best manner—knew when to be affable. He also knew when not to be affable. Upon Mr. Minot he ttuned the cold fishy stare he kept for such as were not guests under his charge.
"What is your business with Lord Harrowby?" he inquired suspiciously.
"Since when," asked Mr. Minot brightly, "have you been in his lordship's confidence?"