II.
The man with the smiling scar approached Lew once more.
“This is probably,” he announced, “the biggest party ever given in New York.”
“I even heard you the first time you told me,” agreed Lew cheerfully.
“But, on the other hand,” qualified the man, “I thought the same thing at a party two years ago, in 1927. Probably they’ll go on getting bigger and bigger. You play polo, don’t you?”
“Only in the back yard,” Lewis assured him. “I said I’d like to play. I’m a serious business man.”
“Somebody told me you were the polo star.” The man was somewhat disappointed. “I’m a writer myself. A humani—a humanitarian. I’ve been trying to help out a girl over there in that room where the champagne is. She’s a lady. And yet, by golly, she’s the only one in the room that can’t take care of herself
