ies hadn't taken
the fine edge from Beverly's good inheritance and good bringing up; his
instinct had survived his scruples, making of him an agile and charming
cynic, whom you could trust to see the right thing always, and never
do it unless it was absolutely necessary; he would marry any amount
of Kitties for their money, and always know that beside his mother and
sisters they were as dirt; and he would see to it that his children
took after their father, went to school in England for a good accent and
enunciation, as he had done, went to college in America for the sake
of belonging in their own country, as he had done, and married as many
fortunes, and had as few divorces, as possible.

"Who was that girl on the bridge?" he now inquired as we reached the
steps of the post-office; and when I had told him again, because he
had asked me about Eliza La Heu at the time, "She's the real thing," he
commented. "Quite extraordinary, you know, her dignity, when poor old
awful Charley was messing everything--he's so used to mere money, you
know, that half the time he forgets people are not dollars, and you have
to kick him to remind him--yes, quite perfect dignity. Gad, it took a
lady to climb up and sit by that ragged old darky and take her dead dog
away in the cart! The cart and the darky only made her look what she
was all the more. Poor Kitty couldn't do that--she'd look like a
chambermaid! Well, old man, see you again."

I stood on the post-office steps looking after Beverly Rodgers as he
crossed Court Street. His admirably good clothes, the easy finish of
his whole appearance, even his walk, and his back, and the slope of his
shoulders, were unmistakable. The Southern men, going to their business
in Court Street, looked at him. Alas, in his outward man he was as a
rose among weeds! And certainly, no well-born American could unite with
an art more hedonistic than Beverly's the old school and the nouveau
jeu!

Over at the other corner he turned and stood admiring the church and
gazing at the other buildings, and so perceived me still on the steps.
With a gesture of remembering something he crossed back again.

"You've not seen Miss Rieppe?"

"Why, of course I haven't!" I exclaimed. Was everybody going to ask me
that?

"Well, something's up, old boy. Charley has got the launch away with
him--and I'll bet he's got her away with him, too. Charley lied this
morning."

"Is lying, then, so rare with him?"

"Why, it rat