"To see views?"

"Yes. I am sick to death of fine scenery and mountains, 'scarped and
jagged and rifted,' and all other kinds. I've seen so many grand
landscapes, I never want to see another. I want to stay at the Branch or
the Springs, and have nice dresses and a hop every night. And you know
papa _will_ go to some lonely place, where all my toilettes are thrown
away, and where there is not a soul to speak to but famous men of one
kind or another."

Jack couldn't help laughing; but they were now among the little crush
that generally gathers in the vestibule of a theatre, and whatever he
meant to say was cut in two by a downright hearty salutation from some
third party.

"Why, Max, when did you get home?"

"To-day's steamer." Then there were introductions and a jingle of merry
words and smiles that blended in Kitty's ears with the dreamy music, the
rustle of dresses, and perfume of flowers, and the new-comer was gone.

But that three minutes' interview was a wonderful event to Kitty Duffan,
though she did not yet realize it. The stranger had touched her as she
had never been touched before. His magnetic voice called something into
being that was altogether new to her; his keen, searching gray eyes
claimed what she could neither understand nor withhold. She became
suddenly silent and thoughtful; and Jack, who was learned in love lore,
saw in a moment that Kitty had fallen in love with his friend Max
Raymond.