"She is too young to endure it," sobbed the by-product to her of the sketchy face. And that was no idle epigram, either. [Illustration] XIV [Illustration] She had no definite idea; all she craved for was the open--or its metropolitan substitute--sunshine, air, the glimpse of sanely preoccupied faces, the dull, quickening tumult of traffic. The tumult grew, increasing in her ears as she crossed Washington Square under the sycamores and looked up through tender feathery foliage at the white arch of marble through which the noble avenue flows away between its splendid arid chasms of marble, bronze, and masonry to that blessed leafy oasis in the north--the Park. She took an omnibus, impatient for the green rambles of the only breathing-place she knew of, and settled back in her seat, rebellious of eye, sullen of mouth, scarcely noticing the amused expression of the young man opposite. Two passengers left at Twenty-third Street, three at Thirty-fourth Street, and seven at Forty-second Street. Preoccupied, she glanced up at the only passenger remaining, caught the fleeting shadow of interest on his face, regarded him with natural indifference, and looked out of the window, forgetting him. A few moments later, accidentally aware of him again, she carelessly noted his superficially attractive qualities, and, approving, resumed her idle inspection of the passing throng. But the next time her pretty head swung round she found him looking rather fixedly at her, and involuntarily she returned the gaze with a childlike directness--a gaze which he sustained to the limit of good breeding, then evaded so amiably that it left an impression rather agreeable than otherwise. "I don't see," thought Aphrodite, "why I never meet that sort of man. He hasn't art nouveau legs, and his features are not by-products of his hair.... I have told my brothers-in-law that I am old enough to go out without coming out.... And I am." The lovely mouth grew sullen again: "I don't wish to wait two years and be what dreadful newspapers call a 'bud'! I wish to go to dinners and dances _now_!... Where I'll meet that sort of man.... The sort one feels almost at liberty to talk to without anybody presenting anybody.... I've a mind to look amiable the next time he----" He raised his eyes at that instant; but she did not smile. "I--I suppose that is the effect of civilization on me," she reflected--"metropolitan civilization. I felt like saying, 'For goodness' sake, let's say something'--even in spite of all my sisters have told me. I can't see why it would be dangerous for me to _look_ amiable. If he glances at me again--so agreeably----" He did; but she didn't smile.