Customers came just then, to change the current of his thoughts. They
wanted round collars, and deep collars, and fichus, and edges, and a
hundred little irritating things. Young Ried, usually so gracious and
patient, had much ado to keep from showing his annoyance over the
smallness of all their wishes.

Meantime Mrs. Roberts, who had taken a seat, entered apparently with
absorption into the relative merits of round or pointed collars with a
young lady acquaintance. She patiently measured to discover whether
the turned-down corner of one was a quarter of an inch deeper than the
other or not; she gave, with due deliberation, her opinion as to whether
the points were more becoming to the young lady's style of beauty
than the rolling fronts, and even went to the trouble of unfastening her
furs to show still another style that she liked better than either; sending
the disgusted Alfred to an entirely different box in search of a like
pattern. As he went, his lip curled visibly. What a fool he had been
to allow himself to get momentarily excited over this doll! How
preposterous in him to mention his dead sister's name to her! She had
already forgotten the entire matter, and was deep in the merits of
collars! His first estimate of her had been the correct one. Her mind
was just about as deep, he believed, as the tiny collar she was
measuring. What a farce it was to talk to her about helping those poor
fellows! She probably thought a few soup tickets, and a chance for a
good Christmas dinner at some of the public charity halls, was the way
to reach and reform them. _He_ shouldn't help her; she mustn't expect
it. Doubtless she did not. Probably she had by this time forgotten that
she had suggested it. Why need she putter here about a few collars for a
young lady in her own circle to wear with her morning dresses? That was
just it, he told himself. It was because she _was_ in her circle, and