At Vanderman’s that night he took Mrs. Tate in to dinner, but Margaret was on his left.  “When does your Craig make his speech before the Supreme Court?” asked she.

He inspected her with some surprise.  “Tuesday, I think.  Why?”

“I promised him I’d go.”

“And will you?”

“Certainly.  Why not?”

This would never do.  Josh would get the impression she was running after him, and would be more contemptuous than ever.  “I shouldn’t, if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s very vain, as you perhaps discovered.  He might misunderstand.”

“And why should that disturb me?” asked she, tranquilly.  “I do as I please.  I don’t concern myself about what others think.  Your friend interests me.  I’ve a curiosity to see whether he has improved in the last two or three years as much as he says he has.”

“He told you all about himself?”

“Everything—­and nothing.”

“That’s just it!” exclaimed Arkwright, misunderstanding her.  “After he has talked me into a state of collapse, every word about himself and his career, I think it all over, and wonder whether there’s anything to the man or not.  Sometimes I think there’s a real person beneath that flow of vanity.  Then, again, I think not.”

“Whether he’s an accident or a plan,” mused the young woman; but she saw that Arkwright did not appreciate the cleverness and the penetration of her remark.  Indeed, she knew in advance that he would not, for she knew his limitations.  “Now,” thought she, “Craig would have appreciated it—­and clapped me on the arm—­or knee.”

“Did you like Josh?” Grant was inquiring.

“Very much, indeed.”

“Of course,” said Arkwright satirically.

“He has ability to do things.  He has strength. ...  He isn’t like us.”

Arkwright winced.  “I’m afraid you exaggerate him, merely because he’s different.”

“He makes me feel an added contempt for myself, somehow.  Doesn’t he you?”

“I can’t say he does,” replied Arkwright, irritated.  “I appreciate his good qualities, but I can’t help being offended and disturbed for him by his crudities.  He has an idea that to be polite and well-dressed is to be weak and worthless.  And I can’t get it out of his head.”

Margaret’s smile irritated him still further.  “All great men are more or less rude and crude, aren’t they?” said she.  “They are impatient of the trifles we lay so much stress on.”

“So, you think Josh is a great man?”

“I don’t know,” replied Margaret, with exasperating deliberateness.  “I want to find out.”

“And if you decide that he is, you’ll marry him?”

“Perhaps.  You suggested it the other day.”

“In jest,” said Arkwright, unaccountably angry with her, with himself, with Joshua.  “As soon as I saw him in your presence, I knew it wouldn’t do.  It’d be giving a piece of rare, delicate porcelain to a grizzly as a plaything.”