down into his shabby gray clothes, with his hands thrust deep into his
pockets, his feet shoved out before him, sat staring at his companion.
Furrowed abruptly from brow to chin with myriad infinitesimal wrinkles
of perplexity, his lean, droll face looked suddenly almost monkeyish
in its intentness.

"What does a fellow like you come to a place like this for?" he asked
bluntly.

"Why--tennis," conceded the Younger Man. "A little tennis. And golf--a
little golf. And--and--"

"And--girls," asserted the Older Man with precipitous conviction.

Across the Younger Man's splendidly tailored shoulders a little
flicker of self-consciousness went crinkling. "Oh, of course," he
grinned. "Oh, of course I've got a vacationist's usual partiality for
pretty girls. But Great Heavens!" he began, all over again. "Of all
the stupid--!"

"But you live like such a fool--of course you're bored," resumed the
Older Man.

"There you are at it again!" stormed the Younger Man with tempestuous
resentment.

"Why shouldn't I be 'at it again'?" argued the Older Man mildly.
"Always and forever picking out the showiest people that you can
find--and always and forever being bored to death with them
eventually, but never learning anything from it--that's you! Now