It was now well on in May, and most of the people of Montague's acquaintance had moved out to their country places; and those who were chained to their desks had yachts or automobiles or private cars, and made the trip into the country every afternoon. Montague was invited to spend another week at Eldridge Devon's, where Alice had been for a week; but he could not spare the time until Saturday afternoon, when he made the trip up the Hudson in Devon's new three-hundred-foot steam-yacht, the Triton. Some unkind person had described Devon to Montague as “a human yawn”; but he appeared to have a very keen interest in life that Saturday afternoon. He had been seized by a sudden conviction that a new and but little advertised automobile had proven its superiority to any of the seventeen cars which he at present maintained in his establishment. He had got three of these new cars, and while Montague sat upon the quarter-deck of the Triton and gazed at the magnificent scenery of the river, he had in his ear the monotonous hum of Devon's voice, discussing annular ball-bearings and water-jacketed cylinders. One of the new cars met them at Devon's private pier, and swept them over the hill to the mansion. The Devon place had never looked more wonderful to Montague than it did just then, with fruit trees in full blossom, and the wonder of springtime upon everything. For miles about one might see hillsides that were one unbroken stretch of luscious green lawn. But alas, Eldridge Devon had no interest in these hills, except to pursue a golf-ball over them. Montague never felt more keenly the pitiful quality of the people among whom he found himself than when he stood upon the portico of this house—a portico huge enough to belong to some fairy palace in a dream—and gazed at the sweeping vista of the Hudson over the heads of Mrs. Billy Alden and several of her cronies, playing bridge.
* * *
 
After luncheon, he went for a stroll with Alice, and she told him how she had been passing the time. “Young Curtiss was here for a couple of days,” she said.
“General Prentice's nephew?” he asked.
“Yes. He told me he had met you,” said she. “What do you think of him?”
“He struck me as a sensible chap,” said Montague.
“I like him very much,” said Alice. “I think we shall be friends. He is interesting to talk to; you know he was in a militia regiment that went to Cuba, and also he's been a cowboy, and all sorts of exciting things. We took a walk the other morning, and he told me some of his adventures. They say he's quite a successful lawyer.”
“He is in a very successful firm,” said Montague. “And he'd hardly have got there unless he had ability.”
“He's a great friend of Laura Hegan's,” said Alice. “She was over here to spend the day. She doesn't approve of many people, so that is a compliment.”
Montague spoke of a visit which he had paid to Laura Hegan, at one of the neighbouring estates.
“I had quite a talk with her,” said Alice. “And she invited me to luncheon, and took me driving. I like her better than I thought I would. Don't you like her, Allan?”
“I couldn't say that I really know her,” said Montague. “I thought I might like her, but she did not happen to like me.”
“But how could that be?” asked the girl.
Montague smiled. “Tastes are different,” he said.
“But there must be some reason,” protested Alice. “For she looks at many things in the same way that you do. I told her I thought she would be interested to talk to you.”
“What did she say?” asked the other.
“She didn't say anything,” answered Alice; and then suddenly she turned to him. “I am sure you must know some reason. I wish you would tell me.”
“I don't know anything definite,” Montague answered. “I have always imagined it had to do with Mrs. Winnie.”
“With Mrs. Winnie!” exclaimed Alice, in perplexing wonder.
“I suppose she heard gossip and believed it,” he added.
“But that is a shame!” exclaimed the girl. “Why don't you tell her the truth?”
“I tell her?” laughed Montague. “I have no reason for telling her. She doesn't care anything in particular about me.”
He was silent for a moment or two. “I thought of it once or twice,” he said. “For it made me rather angry at first. I saw myself going up to her, and startling her with the statement, 'What you believe about me is not true!' Then again, I thought I might write her a letter and tell her. But of course it would be absurd; she would never acknowledge that she had believed anything, and she would think I was impertinent.”
“I don't believe she would do anything of the sort,” Alice answered. “At least, not if she meant what she said to me. She was talking about people one met in Society, and how tiresome and conventional it all was. 'No one ever speaks the truth or deals frankly with you,' she said. 'All the men spend their time in paying you compliments about your looks. They think that is all a woman cares about. The more I come to know them, the less I think of them.'”
“That's just it,” said Montague. “One cannot feel comfortable knowing a girl in her position. Her father is powerful, and some day she will be enormously rich herself; and the people who gather about her are seeking to make use of her. I was interested in her when I first met her. But when I learned more about the world in which she lives, I shrank from even talking to her.”
“But that is rather unfair to her,” said Alice. “Suppose all decent people felt that way. And she is really quite easy to know. She told me about some charities she is interested in. She goes down into the slums, on the East Side, and teaches poor children. It seemed to me a wonderfully daring sort of thing,............