“I’ve got it, my love, so that you won’t be robbed of your holiday and at the same time we’ll be pretty satisfactorily fixed for a good time here.  You send Belle Thompson here—­perfectly beautiful creature, Tracy, perfectly beautiful; I want you to see that girl; why, you’ll just go mad; you’ll go mad inside of a minute; yes, you send her right along, Gwendolen, and tell her—­why, she’s gone!” He turned—­she was already passing out at the gate.  He muttered, “I wonder what’s the matter; I don’t know what her mouth’s doing, but I think her shoulders are swearing.  Well,” said Sellers blithely to Tracy, “I shall miss her—­ parents always miss the children as soon as they’re out of sight, it’s only a natural and wisely ordained partiality—­but you’ll be all right, because Miss Belle will supply the youthful element for you and to your entire content; and we old people will do our best, too.  We shall have a good enough time.  And you’ll have a chance to get better acquainted with Admiral Hawkins.  That’s a rare character, Mr. Tracy—­one of the rarest and most engaging characters the world has produced.  You’ll find him worth studying.  I’ve studied him ever since he was a child and have always found him developing.  I really consider that one of the main things that has enabled me to master the difficult science of character-reading was the livid interest I always felt in that boy and the baffling inscrutabilities of his ways and inspirations.”

Tracy was not hearing a word.  His spirits were gone, he was desolate.

“Yes, a most wonderful character.  Concealment—­that’s the basis of it.  Always the first thing you want to do is to find the keystone a man’s character is built on—­then you’ve got it.  No misleading and apparently inconsistent peculiarities can fool you then.  What do you read on the Senator’s surface?  Simplicity; a kind of rank and protuberant simplicity; whereas, in fact, that’s one of the deepest minds in the world.  A perfectly honest man—­an absolutely honest and honorable man—­ and yet without doubt the profoundest master of dissimulation the world has ever seen.”

“O, it’s devilish!” This was wrung from the unlistening Tracy by the anguished thought of what might have been if only the dinner arrangements hadn’t got mixed.

“No, I shouldn’t call it that,” said Sellers, who was now placidly walking up and down the room with his hands under his coat-tails and listening to himself talk.  “One could quite properly call it devilish in another man, but not in the Senator.  Your term is right—­perfectly right—­I grant that—­but the application is wrong.  It makes a great difference.  Yes, he is a marvelous character.  I do not suppose that any other statesman ever had such a colossal sense of humor, combined with the ability to totally conceal it.  I may except George Washington and Cromwell, and perhaps Robespierre, but I draw the line there.  A person not an expert might be in Judge Hawkins’s company a lifetime and never find out he had any more sense of humor than a cemetery.”