rt. How he was to obtain his passport into
fashionable society was a question that did not concern him. Its portals
were typified to him by the wide gates of Central Park, through which
all might roll upon whom fortune smiled. One blessed fact possessed his
mind: by the first of July he should be master of his future, liberated
from his desk, free to go to Newport. When his foot actually pressed
that reservation, all the rest would come about quite naturally. At this
time he still preserved his self-respect. He felt quite the equal of the
men he had brushed elbows with at Delmonico's--the pink-faced youths
with their butter-colored tops, the affable elderly men with their
bulbous stomachs and puffy eyes. And he had caught many of their little
fads. He had risen in the night, and opening the door connecting the
kitchen and dining-room, that he might have sufficient scope, he had
practised the remarkable gait of the New York youth of fashion: that
slight forward inclination of the shoulders, that slighter crab-like
angle of the body, that ponderous thoughtful tread: the only difference
from the walk of the "tough" being in the length of the step. One hand
was in a pocket, the other absently manipulated a stick. He had also
witnessed the hand-shake, and of his proficiency in this accomplishment
he felt assured.

On the third day of July, one hour after the law had yielded up its
temporary foundling, he ordered an elaborate outfit from the most
fashionable tailor in New York. This order and others drilled a large
hole in his first quarter's income, but he regarded that as a trifling
detail. His mother and sister were meanwhile selling the homely
necessities of their flat at auction, as the first step to a year
abroad. They wondered at Andrew's desire to go to Newport, but had heard
that it was a pretty place with a good bathing-beach, and much visited
by tourists. They spent the last night together in a hotel; and Mrs.
Webb, in spite of a faint protest from Andrew, ordered beer and crackers
and cheese. They had eaten this little supper for many years, and the
women, who were very tearful, insisted that this last evening together
must be as much like the dear old evenings as possible. It was a sad
meal.

V

It was a profoundly hot August day when Andrew left the steamboat and
actually stood upon Newport soil. More properly, he stood upon a plank
wharf, and was not impressed with the dock. But as the omnibus rolled