CHAPTER IV.


Almost the first persons at the theatre on whom Selma's eyes rested were
the Gregory Williamses. They were in a box with two other people, and
both Flossy and her husband were talking with the festive air peculiar
to those who are willing to be noticed and conscious that their wish is
being gratified. Flossy wore a gay bonnet and a stylish frock,
supplemented by a huge bunch of violets, and her husband's evening dress
betrayed a slight exaggeration of the prevailing fashion in respect to
his standing collar and necktie. Selma had never had a thorough look at
him before, and she reflected that he was decidedly impressive and
handsome. His face was full and pleasant, his mustache large and
gracefully curved, and his figure manly. His most distinguishing
characteristic was a dignity of bearing uncommon in so young a man,
suggesting that he carried, if not the destiny of republics on his
shoulders, at least, important financial secrets in his brain. The man
and woman with them were almost elderly and gave the effect of being
strangers to the city. They were Mr. and Mrs. Silas S. Parsons. Mr.
Parsons was a prosperous Western business man, who now and then visited
New York, and who had recently become a customer of Williams's. He had
dealt in the office where Williams was a clerk, and, having taken a
fancy to him, was disposed to help the new firm. Gregory had invited
them to dinner and to the theatre, by way of being attentive, and had
taken a box instead of stalls, in order to make his civility as
magnificent as the occasion would permit. A box, besides being a
delicate testimonial to his guest, would cause the audience to notice
him and his wife and to ask who they were.

In the gradual development of the social appetite in this country a