"You oughtn't to say that. They all read you."

"Me? I should like to see them! Only two or three at most," the young
man returned.

"Did you ever hear anything like that? He knows, haughtily, how good he
is!" St. George declared, laughing to Miss Fancourt. "They read _me_,
but that doesn't make me like them any better. Come away from them, come
away!" And he led the way out of the exhibition.

"He's going to take me to the Park," Miss Fancourt observed to Overt with
elation as they passed along the corridor that led to the street.

"Ah does he go there?" Paul asked, taking the fact for a somewhat
unexpected illustration of St. George's moeurs.

"It's a beautiful day--there'll be a great crowd. We're going to look at
the people, to look at types," the girl went on. "We shall sit under the
trees; we shall walk by the Row."

"I go once a year--on business," said St. George, who had overheard
Paul's question.

"Or with a country cousin, didn't you tell me? I'm the country cousin!"
she continued over her shoulder to Paul as their friend drew her toward a
hansom to which he had signalled. The young man watched them get in; he
returned, as he stood there, the friendly wave of the hand with which,
ensconced in the vehicle beside her, St. George took leave of him. He
even lingered to see the vehicle start away and lose itself in the