on the
hour's reckoning, summed him up. And since we are to see much of
Harrington Surtaine, in evil chance and good, and see him at times
through the eyes of that shrewd observer and capitalizer of men, his
father, the summing-up is worth our present heed, for all that it is
to be considerably modified in the mind of its proponent, as events
develop. This, then, is Dr. Surtaine's estimate of his beloved
"Boyee," after a year of separation.

"A little bit of a prig. A little bit of a cub. Just a _little_ mite
of a snob, too, maybe. But the right, solid, clean stuff underneath.
And my son, thank God! _My_ son all through."

CHAPTER III

ESME

Hal saw her first, vivid against the lifeless gray of the cement wall,
as he turned away from the Pierce car. A little apart from the human
current she stood, still and expectant. As if to point her out as the
chosen of gods and men, the questing sun, bursting in triumph through a
cloud-rift, sent a long shaft of gold to encompass and irradiate her. To
the end, whether with aching heart or glad, Hal was to see her thus, in
flashing, recurrent visions; a slight, poised figure, all gracious
curves and tender consonances, with a cluster of the trailing arbutus,
that first-love of the springtide, clinging at her breast. The breeze
bore to him the faint, wild, appealing fragrance which is the very
breath and soul of the blossom's fairy-pink.

Half-turning, she had leaned a little, as a flower leans, to the warmth
of the sunlight, uplifting her face for its kiss. She was not beautiful
in any sense of regularity of outline or perfection of feature, so much
as lovely, with the lustrous loveliness which defiantly overrides the
lapse of line and proportion, and imperiously demands the homage of
every man born of woman. Chill analysis might have judged the mouth,
with its delicate, humorous quirk at the corners, too large; the chin
too broad, for all its adorable baby dimple; the line of the nose too
abrupt, the wider contours lacking something of classic exactitude. But
the chillest analysis must have warmed to enthusiasm at the eyes;
wide-set, level, and of a tawny hazel, with strange, wine-brown lights
in their depths, to match the brownish-golden sheen of the hair, where
the sun glinted from it. As it were a higher power of her physical
splendor, there emanated from the girl an intensity and radiance of joy
in being alive and lovely.

Involuntarily Hal Surtaine paused as h