well acquainted, and a conventional artificiality which was to him
all the more unnatural and absurd because his perception was not
dulled by familiarity with society's passing whims.

The young stranger whom Mr. Jocelyn had repulsed, and who was the
real object of his quest, did not appear among the pleasure-seekers,
nor could he discover him on the piazza, in the billiard-room, or in
other places of resort. At last in much disappointment he returned
to his seat, from which he commanded a view of the parlor; and
scarcely had he done so before the one he sought mounted the steps
near him as if returning from a stroll in the hotel grounds, threw
away his cigar, and entered an open window with the same graceful,
listless saunter witnessed in the afternoon. He crossed the wide
apartment with as much ease and nonchalance as if it had been
empty, and sat down on a sofa by a somewhat stout and very elegantly
apparelled gentlewoman.

Roger never thought of accounting for the intensity of his interest
in this stranger--the young rarely analyze their feelings--but,
obedient to an impulse to learn this man's power to win the favor
of one so unapproachable by himself, he scanned with keenest scrutiny
everything in his appearance and manner, and sought eagerly to
gauge his character.

He felt instinctively that the "cold-blooded snob," as Mr. Jocelyn
had characterized him, was of the very opposite type to his own.
His graceful saunter, which, nevertheless, possessed a certain
quiet dignity, suggested a burdensome leisure and an utter lack
of purpose to go anywhere or do anything. He dropped on the sofa
rather than sat down. The lady at his side spoke rather decidedly