I was about to take the chair that the young man had left vacant
when Kinney objected.

"He was very much interested in our conversation," Kinney said,
"and he may return."

I had not noticed any eagerness on the part of the young man to
talk to Kinney or to listen to him, but I did not sit down.

"I should not be surprised a bit," said Kinney, "if that young man
is no end of a swell. He is a Harvard man, and his manner was most
polite. That," explained Kinney, "is one way you can always tell a
real swell. They're not high and mighty with you. Their social
position is so secure that they can do as they like. For instance,
did you notice that he smoked a pipe?"

I said I had not noticed it.

For his holiday Kinney had purchased a box of cigars of a quality
more expensive than those he can usually afford. He was smoking
one of them at the moment, and, as it grew less, had been carefully
moving the gold band with which it was encircled from the lighted
end. But as he spoke he regarded it apparently with distaste, and
then dropped it overboard.

"Keep my chair," he said, rising. "I am going to my cabin to get
my pipe." I sat down and fastened my eyes upon my book; but
neither did I understand what I was reading nor see the printed
page. Instead, before my eyes, confusing and blinding me, was the
lovely, radiant face of the beautiful lady. In perplexity I looked