for what I can do in this present session—­no indeed I wouldn’t.  Now, here—­I don’t altogether like this.  That insignificant secretary of legation is—­why, she’s smiling on him as if he—­and now on the Admiral!  Now she’s illuminating that, stuffy Congressman from Massachusetts—­vulgar ungrammatcal shovel-maker—­greasy knave of spades.  I don’t like this sort of thing.  She doesn’t appear to be much distressed about me—­she hasn’t looked this way once.  All right, my bird of Paradise, if it suits you, go on.  But I think I know your sex.  I’ll go to smiling around a little, too, and see what effect that will have on you”

And he did “smile around a little,” and got as near to her as he could to watch the effect, but the scheme was a failure—­he could not get her attention.  She seemed wholly unconscious of him, and so he could not flirt with any spirit; he could only talk disjointedly; he could not keep his eyes on the charmers he talked to; he grew irritable, jealous, and very, unhappy.  He gave up his enterprise, leaned his shoulder against a fluted pilaster and pouted while he kept watch upon Laura’s every movement.  His other shoulder stole the bloom from many a lovely cheek that brushed him in the surging crush, but he noted it not.  He was too busy cursing himself inwardly for being an egotistical imbecile.  An hour ago he had thought to take this country lass under his protection and show her “life” and enjoy her wonder and delight—­and here she was, immersed in the marvel up to her eyes, and just a trifle more at home in it than he was himself.  And now his angry comments ran on again: 

“Now she’s sweetening old Brother Balaam; and he—­well he is inviting her to the Congressional prayer-meeting, no doubt—­better let old Dilworthy alone to see that she doesn’t overlook that.  And now its Splurge, of New York; and now its Batters of New Hampshire—­and now the Vice President!  Well I may as well adjourn.  I’ve got enough.”

But he hadn’t.  He got as far as the door—­and then struggled back to take one more look, hating himself all the while for his weakness.

Toward midnight, when supper was announced, the crowd thronged to the supper room where a long table was decked out with what seemed a rare repast, but which consisted of things better calculated to feast the eye than the appetite.  The ladies were soon seated in files along the wall, and in groups here and there, and the colored waiters filled the plates and glasses and the, male guests moved hither and thither conveying them to the privileged sex.

Harry took an ice and stood up by the table with other gentlemen, and listened to the buzz of conversation while he ate.