"You can only live your life once," said Mr. Alpha. And they curved gradually apart. This was in 1893. Nearly twenty years later that is to say, not long since I had a glimpse of Mr. Alpha at a Saturday lunch. Do not imagine that Mr. Alpha's Saturday lunch took place in a miserable garret, amid every circumstance of failure and shame. Success in life has very little to do with prudence.
He had been looking for some woman to take "Madame Alpha's" place and furnish the paper with that column of intimate social tittle-tattle about people the readers knew only by name, which every enterprising American newspaper considers a necessary ingredient of the "news."
"My father told me I'd better wait and perhaps he'd come up to Winthrop a little later and then he'd tell me which one to join." Will and Foster glanced at each other, but neither spoke. In fact there was nothing to say. "If you feel sure the Phi Alpha's the best, I might write home to my father and perhaps he'd let me join now," suggested Peter John.
And Milly sank back into her pillows, while her hand skilfully extracted the sheet that contained "Madame Alpha's" social column. Ah, here it was! "One of the most charming affairs of the post-lenten season.... A quiet five o'clock.... Many of our notable fashionables, etc.... Radiant young hostess, etc. The charm of the young hostess, etc."