He seemed to read Arthur’s thoughts, for he said: “These are all off-side girls. You don’t see the others out at this time.” “What do you mean?” said Arthur. “Why, they’re not in society, you know.” And he lifted his hat to one of them, who had given him a most _empressé_ bow, including in it Arthur. “There’s one of the prettiest girls in town,” said he, meditatively; “Kitty Farnum. They’re awfully rich, too; old Farnum’s got no end of money.” This thought seemed to depress Charlie for a minute, and they walked on in silence. Now Arthur had met Miss Farnum at a New Haven ball, where she had been a very proud belle indeed. “There,” said Townley, at last, as they crossed a side street, “is Mrs. Levison Gower’s.” There was a certain reverence in his tone, as he said this, that his voice had not yet shown in all that day, and Arthur looked with a proper admiration, though not clearly understanding why, at the house we have already described. Their lodgings were near by (so Townley always spoke of the boarding-house where he lived), and the young men separated to dress for dinner. Arthur had been rather surprised that so elegant a person lived in a boarding-house at all; but the fact was, Townley preferred to use his money elsewhere than at home. But he never dined with the other inhabitants; in fact, his acquaintance with them was extremely slight, as he always breakfasted in his room; and to-night he put a finishing touch upon his hospitality by inviting Arthur to a very pretty little dinner at the Piccadilly Club. But after this, Townley had an engagement, and Arthur was left to his own devices. He smoked his cigar and read the evening paper; then he began an article in the _Edinburgh Review_, took up the _Spectator_, and ended with _Punch_; after which he became unoccupied, and his spirits dropped visibly. By this time several men had strolled in; there was much laughing and gay spirits; around him were all the luxuries of mind and body that the inventive bachelor mind has yet devised for the comfort of either such part of himself. But as Arthur leaned back in the deep, throne-like leather chair and sipped (if one may so say) his _reina victoria_, his consciousness went back to a certain sunny hillside, with the light of the rich autumn morning, and the joyous beat of the hoofs upon the dewy grass. He had been to see Gracie only the day before; but he drew on his overcoat and walked around to the Livingstones. A light was in the second-story window of the high house; and he rang the bell hopefully. “Mrs. Livingstone?” “Not at home,” said the man, gravely. “Is--is Miss Holyoke in?” “The ladies are out, sir,” said the man, decidedly. “I will not leave a card,” said Arthur, answering the man’s gesture; and he walked sadly back to the club-house. Surely, Arthur felt, the forms of life and the trammels of the great city were coming home to him. CHAPTER VIII. ARTHUR SEES MORE OF THE WORLD.