"Exactly," said Alice. "You can't describe it. He's so cool, and stolid,
and silent, that you feel shoddy and cheap, and any simple little remark
doesn't seem enough to say. You try to talk up to him, and yet feel
small all the time."

"Not at all," said Helen. "You talk down to him, as if he
were--were--your old grandfather, or some one else you admired, but
thought very dull and old-fashioned."

"But the worst is the way he looks at you. So gravely, even when you try
to joke. Now I really think I'm passably pretty, but Mr. Stirling said
as plainly as could be: 'I look at you occasionally because that's the
proper thing to do, when one talks, but I much prefer looking at that
picture over your head.' I don't believe he noticed how my hair was
dressed, or the color of my eyes. Such men are absolutely maddening.
When they've finished their smoke, I'm going to make him notice me."

But Miss Leroy failed in her plan, try as she would. Peter did not
notice girls any more. After worrying in his school and college days,
over what women thought of him and how they treated him, he had suddenly
ceased to trouble himself about them. It was as if a man, after long
striving for something, had suddenly discovered that he did not wish
it--that to him women's opinions had become worthless. Perhaps in this
case it was only the Fox and the Grapes over again. At all events, from
this time on Peter cared little what women did. Courteous he tried to
be, for he understood this to be a duty. But that was all. They might
laugh at him, snub him, avoid him. He cared not. He had struck women out
of his plan of life. And this disregard, as we have already suggested,
was sure to produce a strange change, not merely in Peter, but in
women's view and treatment of him. Peter trying to please them, by dull,