I strolled home to the hotel, musing over the adventure of the afternoon.  Blanche was a girl who might be included in the star type that I had once sought for:  wanted to be worshiped and play the superior.  Now that I had found her I was surprised how little I liked that style.  Just as if a good-looking fellow like me was a bear or a wild Indian, to be afraid of!  I don’t see that she would have been any the worse for it if I had kissed her; and wasn’t I as respectful as her nearest relation?  ’Pon honor I was.  A very odd girl.  I shall ask Ned Hardcash about it.

CHAPTER IV.

I never saw Eva looking better than she did that night.  I lounged around the room until I came to her crowd, attached myself there, and did some heavy flirting.  I asked her to take a moonlight stroll, but her aunt overheard me and gave her a look, upon which she said the air outside was too cool.  I saw the play was to be above-board.  Aunt Stunner had taken matters into her own hands, and the game had commenced in earnest.  Mr. David Todd, Jr., was there, and Eva paid him a good deal of attention:  I did not like it.

Presently she went off to dance with him, and Aunt Stunner sat down by me.  Fanning herself energetically, she said in a confidential tone, “Eva is looking sweetly to-night:  don’t you think so, Mr. Highrank?”

“Miss Eva always looks jolly,” I said shortly.  I did not want to talk to the old lady.

“Mr. Todd appears to think so too,” she went on with a nod and a knowing look at me.  Evidently she was playing Todd against Highrank.

“Mr. David Todd, Jr.?” I asked languidly:  “he has thirty thousand a year, hasn’t he?”

She looked at me sharply for an instant, then smiled and said, “How should I know, dear Mr. Highrank?  It is his rare personal merit that pleases me.  I own I am happy to see him so attentive to the child for her sake.  She is so impulsive and innocent, so likely to fancy a younger, more dashing kind of man”—­here she glanced at me—­“that I acknowledge I do feel anxious to have her settled happily.  Not but that some young men are exceptions,” she continued amiably, “and make excellent husbands.”

“There are two classes of men,” I remarked quietly.  “They can be divided into those who make good husbands and those who don’t.  Wealthy men are the most superior, and are best fitted to fill the situation.”

“I agree with you entirely:  you are a very sensible young man,” enthusiastically replied the old lady, not recognizing the quotation.

We talked on until Eva came back:  then I claimed the next waltz, and decided I would carry her off from Todd.  I pressed her hand, but she would not respond:  it was plain she was obeying orders.

“Won’t you walk with me?” I whispered as we were near an open window in a pause of the dance.

“I can’t, Charley—­indeed I can’t,” as I tried to draw her outside:  “I will explain another time.”