ed of possessing one: between paragraphs,
as another young man might have dreamed of vanquishing a rival. It was
inborn that we should wish to appear well in public; to better one's
condition, or, next best, to make the public believe one has. Thomas
was deeply observant and quickly adaptive. Between the man who goes to
school _with_ books and the man who goes to school _in_ books there is
wide difference. What we are forced to learn seldom lifts us above the
ordinary; what we learn by inclination plows our fields and reaps our
harvests. It is as natural as breathing that we should like our
tonics, mental as well as physical, sugar-coated.

Thomas had never worn a dress-suit; but in the matter of collars and
cravats and shirts he knew the last word. But why should he wish to
wear that mournfully conventional suit in which we are supposed to
enjoy ourselves? She had told him not to bother about dress. Was it
that very nonsense he dreaded, insidiously attacking the redoubts of
his common sense?

That evening at dinner Kitty nor her mother appeared to notice the
change. This gratified him; he knew that outwardly there was nothing
left to desire or attain.

Kitty began to talk about the romance immediately. She had found the
beginning very exciting; it was out of the usual run of stories; and if
it was all as good as the first part, there would be some editors glad
to get hold of it. So much for the confidence of youth. _The Black
Veil_, as I have reason to know, lies at the bottom of Thomas' ancient
trunk.

Long as he lived he would never forget the enjoyment of that night.
The electric signs along Broadway interested him intensely; he babbled
about them boyishly. Theater outside and theater within; a great drama
of light and shadow, of comedy and tragedy; for he gazed upon the scene
with all his poet's eyes. He enjoyed the opera, the color and music,
the propinquity of Kitty. Sometimes their shoulders touched; the
indefinable perfume of her hair thrilled him.

Kitty had seen all these things so many times that she no longer
experienced enthusiasm; but his was so genuine, so un-English, that she
found it impossible to escape the contagion. She did not bubble over,
however; on the contrary, she sat through the performance strangely
subdued, dimly alarmed over what she had done.

As they were leaving the lobby of the theater, a man bumped against
Thomas, quite accidentally.

"I beg your pardon!" said