returned, a tall, well-formed Harvardian, as careful as a woman in the
matter of dress, very refined in his manners. Besides, he was a
delightful conversationalist. His father was rejoiced; every one
declared he was a charming fellow.

They were right. Vandover was at his best at this time; it was
undeniable that he had great talent, but he was so modest about it that
few knew how clever he really was.

He went out to dinners and receptions and began to move a little in
society. He became very popular: the men liked him because he was so
unaffected, so straightforward, and the women because he was so
respectful and so deferential.

He had no vices. He had gone through the ordeal of college life and had
come out without contracting any habit more serious than a vague
distaste for responsibility, and an inclination to shirk disagreeable
duties. Cards he never thought of. It was rare that he drank so much as
a glass of beer.

However, he had come back to a great disappointment. Business in San
Francisco had entered upon a long period of decline, and values were
decreasing; for ten years rents had been sagging lower and lower. At the
same time the interest on loans and insurances had increased, and real
estate was brought to a standstill; one spoke bitterly of a certain
great monopoly that was ruining both the city and state. Vandover's
father had suffered with the rest, and now told his son that he could
not at this time afford to send him to Paris. He would have to wait for
better times.