upremely indifferent to the fact of his existence, and there had
been other times when it had appeared manifest that he pleased her--or
better, perhaps, that she was willing to take note of how much she
pleased him. It must have been apparent to her--this fact that
she produced such an impression upon him. He reasoned this out
satisfactorily to himself. These beautiful women, trained from
childhood for the conquest of a rich husband, must have cultivated an
extraordinary delicacy of consciousness, in such matters. They must have
developed for themselves what might be called a sixth sense--a power of
feeling in the air what the men about were thinking of them. More than
once he had caught a glimmer of what he felt to be the operation of this
sense, in the company of Lady Cressage. He could not say that it had
been discernible in her glance, or her voice, or her manner, precisely,
but he was sure that he had seen it, somehow.

But even assuming all this--admitting that in October, on a wet Sunday,
in the tedium of a small country-house party, she had shown some
momentary satisfaction in the idea that he was profoundly impressed by
her--did it at all follow that in February, amid the distractions of a
fashionable winter-resort, and probably surrounded by hosts of friends,
she would pay any attention to him whatever? The abject fear that she
might not even remember him--might not know him from Adam when he stood
before her--skulked about in the labyrinths of his mind, but he drove it
back whenever it showed itself. That would be too ignominious.

The young people at the other side of the compartment, forever wiping
the window with the napkin, and straining their eyes to see the
invisible, diverted his unsettled attention. A new perception of how
much he liked them and enjoyed having them with him, took hold of his
thoughts. It had not occurred to him before, with any definiteness, that
he would be insupportably lonely when the time came to part with them.

Now, when he dwelt upon it, it made him feel sad and old.

He said to himself at once, with decision, that there need be no parting
at all. He would take a house without delay, and they should live with
him. He could not doubt that this would be agreeable to them; it would
solve every problem for him.

His fancy sketched out the natural and legitimate extensions of this
project. There would be, first of all, a house in town--a furnished
house of a modest sort, having