off to the dark, silent
library across the hall. Florence, too, wanted to be alone; but she
could see no way to evade Duncan, and so she was left to talk to a man
for whom she had an instinctive distaste.

"I see you are independent in society as well as in politics, Miss
Moreland," Duncan said, as soon as Harold had left them.

"In what way?" she replied inquiringly.

"Instead of remaining here to be bored by bad music, you were
independent enough to desert."

"Perhaps the bad music drove me away. Real independence cannot be
driven."

"Even in that you are original; society is not driven, it meekly follows
its leaders."

"You seem decided to have me a caprice of nature," she replied.

"I think you are."

"Is that impudence or irony?"

"Neither. I am an evolutionist and you aid my theories. I believe one of
the proofs of Darwinism lies in the imitative sense possessed by the
individuals composing American society. When some strange animal from
across the water comes among us, we try to copy every grimace and
action, until someone else arrives with new affectations and mannerisms,
when we begin all over again. We, as a race, are not sufficiently
developed to possess originality; we are still a species of the genus
ape. Now you, Miss Moreland, are the only member of American society I
have yet discovered who is independent enough to possess original and
patriotic ideas. You are an American of position and yet not an ape, so
you must be a connecting link between us and the more highly developed
societies of Europe."

"I think that your conclusions are somewhat erroneous," she replied. "I
admit that the society that you describe is typical of the descent of
man, but not in a Darwinian sense. It marks a descension from the higher
plane reached by the vigorous pioneers who planted and reared our social
tree. The leaves toward the East, which have breathed the fetid air of
Europe, have shriveled and decayed, but toward the West they are still
kept green and vigorous by the pure, native breezes. Some people seem
to admire the varied brilliancy of the fading foliage, but I enjoy the
vivid native color."

"_Aut Americanus aut nullus_ should be your motto," he replied.

"Could I have a better?"

"You might say _l'Americaine c'est moi_. No one of your sex and
surroundings would dispute the pretension."

"You compliment me, but not my sex. Millions of my country-women would
compete for that distinction."

"My o