activities and interests of the "world."
He seemed willing, even anxious, to make himself secondary, subordinate.
However he may have been on the Continent, here in England his desire to
conform made him appear subservient and almost abject. My own unabashed
and unconscious Americanism--the possible consequence of
inexperience--sometimes embarrassed him, and he occasionally undertook
to edit my dealings with members of the older half of our race, even
with waiters and cabmen. As for the more boastful, aggressive,
self-assertive sort of Americanism, _that_ would make him tremble with
anger and blush for shame.

I will say this in his behalf, however: he did not like England and was
not at home there.

"The little differences," he observed, one day, "made more trouble than
the big ones. A minor seventh is all right, while a minor second is
distressing. I am happier among the Latins."

Yet I am sure that even among his Latins he took the purely objective
view and valued their objects of interest according as they were starred
and double-starred, or left unmarked in the comparative neglect of small
print.

We saw together Canterbury and Cambridge and Brighton and a few other
approved places. Through all these he walked with a meticulous
circumspection, wondering what people thought, asking inwardly if he
were squaring with their ideas of what conduct should be. Only once did
I find him fully competent and sufficiently assertive. The incident
occurred on a late afternoon, in a small side street just off the
Strand, while I was casting about for one of those letter-pillars.
Raymond was approached, as was proper to the locality and the time of
day, by a young woman of thirty who had a hard, determined face and who
was clothed on with a rustling black dress that jingled with jet. I was
near enough to hear.

"Good-afternoon," she said.

"Good-afternoon."

"Where," with marked expressiveness, "are you going?"

"I'm going to stand right here."

"Give me a drink."

"Couldn't think of it."

"Stand," she said, with sudden viciousness, "stand and rot!"

Raymond, after an instant's surprise, made a response in his unstudied
vernacular. "Yes, _I'll_ stand; but you skip. Shoo!"

She was preparing some retort, but he waved both his hands, wide out, as
if starting a ruffled, vindictive hen across a highway. At the same time
he caught sight of a constable on the corner, and let her see that he
saw--

"Constable!"--why, I