"Look here," said Rushbrook, "you'll meet a man here to-night--or he'll
be sure to meet YOU--who'll tell you all about Rushbrook. He's a smart
chap, knows everybody and talks well. His name is Jack Somers; he is
a great ladies' man. He can talk to you about these sort of things,
too,"--indicating the furniture with a half tolerant, half contemptuous
gesture, that struck her as inconsistent with what seemed to be his
previous interest,--"just as well as he can talk of people. Been in
Europe, too."

The young girl's eye brightened with a quick vivacity at the name, but a
moment after became reflective and slightly embarrassed. "I know him--I
met him at Mr. Leyton's. He has already talked of Mr. Rushbrook, but,"
she added, avoiding any conclusion, with a pretty pout, "I'd like
to have the opinion of others. Yours, now, I fancy would be quite
independent."

"You stick to what Jack Somers has said, good or bad, and you won't
be far wrong," he said assuringly. He stopped; his quick ear had heard
approaching voices; he returned to her and held out his hand. As it
seemed to her that in California everybody shook hands with everybody
else on the slightest occasions, sometimes to save further conversation,
she gave him her own. He shook it, less forcibly than she had feared,
and abruptly left her. For a moment she was piqued at this superior and
somewhat brusque way of ignoring her request, but reflecting that it
might be the awkwardness of an untrained man, she dismissed it from her
mind. The voices of her friends in the already resounding passages also
recalled her to the fact that she had been wandering about the house
with a stranger, and she rejoined them a little self-consciously.