Beaton went away with the smile on his face which he had kept in listening to Fulkerson, and carried it with him to the reception.  He believed that Alma was vexed with him for more personal reasons than she had implied; it flattered him that she should have resented what he told her of the Dryfooses.  She had scolded him in their behalf apparently; but really because he had made her jealous by his interest, of whatever kind, in some one else.  What followed, had followed naturally.  Unless she had been quite a simpleton she could not have met his provisional love-making on any other terms; and the reason why Beaton chiefly liked Alma Leighton was that she was not a simpleton.  Even up in the country, when she was overawed by his acquaintance, at first, she was not very deeply overawed, and at times she was not overawed at all.  At such times she astonished him by taking his most solemn histrionics with flippant incredulity, and even burlesquing them.  But he could see, all the same, that he had caught her fancy, and he admired the skill with which she punished his neglect when they met in New York.  He had really come very near forgetting the Leightons; the intangible obligations of mutual kindness which hold some men so fast, hung loosely upon him; it would not have hurt him to break from them altogether; but when he recognized them at last, he found that it strengthened them indefinitely to have Alma ignore them so completely.  If she had been sentimental, or softly reproachful, that would have been the end; he could not have stood it; he would have had to drop her.  But when she met him on his own ground, and obliged him to be sentimental, the game was in her hands.  Beaton laughed, now, when he thought of that, and he said to himself that the girl had grown immensely since she had come to New York; nothing seemed to have been lost upon her; she must have kept her eyes uncommonly wide open.  He noticed that especially in their talks over her work; she had profited by everything she had seen and heard; she had all of Wetmore’s ideas pat; it amused Beaton to see how she seized every useful word that he dropped, too, and turned him to technical account whenever she could.  He liked that; she had a great deal of talent; there was no question of that; if she were a man there could be no question of her future.  He began to construct a future for her; it included provision for himself, too; it was a common future, in which their lives and work were united.

He was full of the glow of its prosperity when he met Margaret Vance at the reception.

The house was one where people might chat a long time together without publicly committing themselves to an interest in each other except such a grew out of each other’s ideas.  Miss Vance was there because she united in her catholic sympathies or ambitions the objects of the fashionable people and of the aesthetic people who met there on common ground.  It was almost the only house in New York where this happened