at life so far above her own. She had come thus
far; she waited at the gate, and some day the great doors would be
flung wide open for her; she would cross the threshold. But not alone.
One would bear her company who was ever an honored guest there, and
in many another home of wealth and fashion and influence.

These thoughts transferred their suppressed rapture into the
expression of her face--into cheeks dazzling for joy--into eyes
swimming in lustre--into a mouth wreathed into curves of exquisite
transport. She was beautiful.

A number of young gallants came crowding about the gate. They stood in
the plentitude of checked tweeds and light flannel, with the latest
sheen on a boot, and the latest paragon of a hat--mighty swells,
conscious of their own superiority, eying this deuced pretty girl, and
wondering who she was.

"You ought to know, Rube," said one.

"But, I don't!" said Rube. "I will know before I'm much older though,
you can depend upon me for that! She's with Miss Josey."

Mell did not notice them beyond a casual glance. They had about them,
incontestably, an enormous lot of style, but compared to Jerome, they
were flat,--awfully flat. She caught a glimpse of him now, this
swellest swell of the period, coming down the marble steps of the
mansion.

Some one is with him--a lady. Yes, just as she thought, Clara Rutland.
Here they come. She, so--so--almost ugly, and he, so--so--so
Jerome-like. That's the only way to express it. Jerome is more than
simply handsome, more than merely graceful, more than a man among
men--he's a non-such, in a nut-shell!

But here he is, almost in speaking distance, and every step
bringing him nearer. Isn't he going to be surprised? Isn't he going
to be delighted? Isn't he going to shake her hand and smile that
impenetrable smile, and--?

How is this? Jerome has come and gone. He did not look at her--he did
not once raise his eyes in passing.

Just ahead of this poky little vehicle, where Mell awaited the return
of Miss Josey, stood a lordly equipage, all silver plate and shine,
with a well-dressed groom standing in front of the champing, restive,
mettlesome animal, as eager to be off and gone somewhere as the most
restless of human hearts in a human bosom.

Into this nobby turnout Jerome assisted Miss Rutland, and then
springing in himself, grasped the reins from the groom's hands. For
one awful moment (to Mell) the horse stood straight upon his hind
legs, and then, o