bright-colored sashes had
given him up in the waltz; and it looked as if James B. Prince must
presently renounce all hope of his ever learning how to turn the
collective spare cash of many depositors to profit. I recall the day
when the chief little light of the dancing-class, after some moments of
completely static tramplings by Raymond in the midst of the floor,
suddenly began to pout and to frown, and then left him in the midst of
the dance and of the company and came to tears before she could reach an
elder sister by the side wall. Raymond accepted the incident without
comment. If his demeanor expressed anything, it expressed his
satisfaction at carrying a point.

But he did not wait until a vexed and disappointed bank left him high
and dry. Though he must have known that many young clerks in the office
envied him his billet and that many young fellows outside it would have
been glad to get in on any terms whatever, he never gave a sign that he
valued his opportunity; and when he finally pulled out it was with no
regard to any possible successor.

The younger men in the bank were a rather trim lot, and were expected to
be. They did wonders, in the way of dressing, on their sixty or
seventy-five dollars a month. Raymond's own dressing, for some little
time past, had grown somewhat slack and careless. I did him the
injustice of supposing that he felt himself to be himself, and _hors
concours_ so far as the general body of clerklings was concerned; but he
had other reasons.

He had given up buying books and periodicals; no new volumes to be seen
in his room except works of travel (preferably guide-books) and grammars
and dictionaries of foreign languages. For all such works of general
uplift and inspiration as the intending tourist in Europe might expect
to profit by, he depended on circulating libraries or the shelves of
friends. I myself lent him a book of travels in the Dolomites, and
scarcely know, now, whether I did well or ill. Raymond, in short, was
silently, doggedly saving, with the intention of taking a trip--or of
making a sojourn--abroad.

The cleavage came in James Prince's front parlor, one Sunday afternoon,
and I happened to be present. A very few words sufficed. Raymond's
father had picked up a thick little book from the centre-table, the only
book in the room, and was looking back and forth between this work--an
Italian dictionary--and Raymond himself.

"What do you expect to get out of this?" h