the porch as he had foretold: Cora and Mr. Corliss sitting a
little aloof from the others, far enough to permit their holding
an indistinct and murmurous conversation of their own. Their
sequestration, even by so short a distance, gave them an
appearance of intimacy which probably accounted for the rather
absent greeting bestowed by Mr. Lindley upon the son of the house,
who met him with some favour.

This Richard Lindley was a thin, friendly looking young man with a
pleasing, old-fashioned face which suggested that if he were
minded to be portrayed it should be by the daguerreotype, and that
a high, black stock would have been more suitable to him than his
businesslike, modern neck-gear. He had fine eyes, which seemed
habitually concerned with faraway things, though when he looked at
Cora they sparkled; however, it cannot be said that the sparkling
continued at its brightest when his glance wandered (as it not
infrequently did this evening) from her lovely head to the rose in
Mr. Corliss's white coat.

Hedrick, resuming a position upon the top step between the two
groups, found the conversation of the larger annoying because it
prevented him from hearing that of the smaller. It was carried on
for the greater part by his mother and Mr. Trumble; Laura sat
silent between these two; and Lindley's mood was obviously
contemplative. Mr. Wade Trumble, twenty-six, small, earnest, and
already beginning to lose his hair, was talkative enough.

He was one of those people who are so continuously aggressive that
they are negligible. "What's the matter here? Nobody pays any
attention to me. I'M important!" He might have had that legend