"Colonel, I asked you for your opinion of those articles."

"Damn it, sir," roared the Colonel, "I've never read one."

Later West repeated the gist of this conversation to Miss Weyland, who
ornamented with him a tiny dinner given that evening at the home of
their very good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart Byrd.

It was a beautiful little dinner, as befitted the hospitable distinction
of the givers. The Stewart Byrds were hosts among a thousand. In him, as
it further happens, West (himself the beau ideal of so many) had from
long ago recognized his own paragon and pattern; a worthy one, indeed,
this tall young man whose fine abilities and finer faiths were already
writing his name so large upon the history of his city. About the
dim-lit round of his table there were gathered but six this evening,
including the host and hostess; the others, besides Sharlee Weyland and
West, being Beverley Byrd and Miss Avery: the youngest of the four Byrd
brothers, and heir with them to one of the largest fortunes in the
State; and the only daughter of old Avery, who came to us from Mauch
Chunk, Pa., his money preceding him in a special train of box cars,
especially invented for the transportation of Pennsylvania millions to
places where the first families congregate.

"And I had to confess that I'd never read one either. I did begin one,"
said West--"it was called 'Elementary Principles of Incidence and
Distribution,' I remember--but the hour was eleven-thirty and I fell
asleep."

"I know exactly how you felt about it," said Sharlee, "for I have read
them all--_moi!_"