"Oh!" she answered, "it's true. If it wasn't, I shouldn't say it. You and Mr. Burmistone and Mr. Poppleton have certainly made it livelier." He went home in such a bad humor that his host, who was rather happier than usual, commented upon his grave aspect at dinner. "You look as if you had heard ill news, old fellow," he said. "What's up?" "Oh, nothing!" he was answered sardonically; "nothing whatever--unless that I have been rather snubbed by a young lady from Nevada." "Ah!" with great seriousness: "that's rather cool, isn't it?" "It's her little way," said Barold. "It seems to be one of the customs of Nevada." In fact, he was very savage indeed. He felt that he had condescended a good deal lately. He seldom bestowed his time on women; and when he did so, at rare intervals, he chose those who would do the most honor to his taste at the least cost of trouble. And he was obliged to confess to himself that he had broken his rule in this case. Upon analyzing his motives and necessities, he found, that, after all, he must have extended his visit simply because he chose to see more of this young woman from Nevada, and that really, upon the whole, he had borne a good deal from her. Sometimes he had been much pleased with her, and very well entertained; but often enough--in fact, rather too often--she had made him exceedingly uncomfortable. Her manners were not what he was accustomed to: she did not consider that all men were not to be regarded from the same point of view. Perhaps he did not put into definite words the noble and patriotic sentiment that an Englishman was not to be regarded from the same point of view as an American, and that, though all this sort of thing might do with fellows in New York, it was scarcely what an Englishman would stand. Perhaps, as I say, he had not put this sentiment into words; but it is quite certain that it had been uppermost in his mind upon more occasions than one. As he thought their acquaintance over, this evening, he was rather severe upon Octavia. He even was roused so far as to condescend to talk her over with Burmistone. "If she had been well brought up," he said, "she would have been a different creature." "Very different, I have no doubt," said Burmistone thoughtfully. "When you say well brought up, by the way, do you mean brought up like your cousin, Miss Gaston?" "There is a medium," said Barold loftily. "I regret to say Lady Theobald has not hit upon it." "Well, as you say," commented Mr. Burmistone, "I suppose there is a medium." "A charming wife she would make, for a man with a position to maintain," remarked Barold, with a short and somewhat savage laugh. "Octavia Bassett?" queried Burmistone. "That's true. But I am afraid she wouldn't enjoy it--if you are supposing the man to be an Englishman, brought up in the regulation groove." "Ah!" exclaimed Barold impatiently: "I was not looking at it from her point of view, but from his."