“You’re a man of the world, I see.”

“No, merely a spectator.”

“Well, you have the price of admission; with me it’s a free pass.  Some day we will compare notes.”

“Who is your banker?”

“Banker?  I have none.  I distrust banks.  They take your mite and invest it in what-nots, and sometimes when you go for it, it is not there.”

“And then again it multiplies so quickly that you have more than you know what to do with; eh?”

“As to that I cannot say.  It is hearsay, rumor; so far as I know it may be so.  Experience has any number of teachers; the trouble is, we cannot study under them all.  Necessity has been my principal instructor.  Sometimes she has larruped me soundly, though I was a model scholar.  You will go to luncheon with me?”

“If you will promise to dine with me this evening?” And I promised.

For an hour or more we chatted upon congenial topics.  He was surprisingly well informed.  He had seen more of the world than I, though he had not observed it so closely.  As we were about to leave, the door opened, and Phyllis, Ethel and her husband, Mr. Holland, entered.  For a moment the room was filled with the fragrance of October air and the essence of violets.  They had been in town a week.  They had been “doing” the Strand, so Ethel said, and thought they would make me a brief visit to see how “it was done,” the foreign corresponding.  Mr. Wentworth and his wife were already domiciled at B——­, and the young people were going over to enjoy the winter festivities.  Phyllis was unchanged.  How like Gretchen, I thought.

While Ethel was engaging my cousin’s attention, I conducted Phyllis through the office.

“What a place to work in!” said Phyllis, laughing.  The laugh awakened a vague thrill.  “Dust, dust; everywhere dust.  You need a woman to look after you, Jack?”

As I did not reply, she looked quickly at me, and seeing that my face was grave, she flushed.

“Forgive me, Jack,” impulsively; “I did not think.”

I answered her with a reassuring smile.

“How long are you to remain in town?” I asked, to disembarrass her.

“We leave day after to-morrow, Saturday.  A day or two in Paris, and then we go on.  Every one in New York is talking about your book.  I knew that you were capable.”

“I hope every one is buying it,” said I, passing over her last observation.

“Was it here that you wrote it?”

“Oh, no; it was written in my rooms, under the most favorable circumstances.”

“I thought so.  This is a very dreary place.”

“Perhaps I like it for that very reason.”

Her eyes were two interrogation points, but I pretended not to see.

“What nice eyes your cousin has,” she said, side glancing.

With a woman it is always a man’s eyes.

“And his father was the man who left you the fortune?”