“Who was that girl on the bridge?” he now inquired as we reached the steps of the post-office; and when I had told him again, because he had asked me about Eliza La Heu at the time, “She’s the real thing,” he commented. “Quite extraordinary, you know, her dignity, when poor old awful Charley was messing everything--he’s so used to mere money, you know, that half the time he forgets people are not dollars, and you have to kick him to remind him--yes, quite perfect dignity. Gad, it took a lady to climb up and sit by that ragged old darky and take her dead dog away in the cart! The cart and the darky only made her look what she was all the more. Poor Kitty couldn’t do that--she’d look like a chambermaid! Well, old man, see you again.” I stood on the post-office steps looking after Beverly Rodgers as he crossed Court Street. His admirably good clothes, the easy finish of his whole appearance, even his walk, and his back, and the slope of his shoulders, were unmistakable. The Southern men, going to their business in Court Street, looked at him. Alas, in his outward man he was as a rose among weeds! And certainly, no well-born American could unite with an art more hedonistic than Beverly’s the old school and the nouveau jeu! Over at the other corner he turned and stood admiring the church and gazing at the other buildings, and so perceived me still on the steps. With a gesture of remembering something he crossed back again. “You’ve not seen Miss Rieppe?” “Why, of course I haven’t!” I exclaimed. Was everybody going to ask me that? “Well, something’s up, old boy. Charley has got the launch away with him--and I’ll bet he’s got her away with him, too. Charley lied this morning.” “Is lying, then, so rare with him?” “Why, it rather is, you know. But I’ve come to be able to spot him when he does it. Those little bulgy eyes of his look at you particularly straight and childlike. He said he had to hunt up a man on business--V-C Chemical Company, he called it--” “There is such a thing here,” I said. “Oh, Charley’d never make up a thing, and get found out in that way! But he was lying all the same, old man.” “Do you mean they’ve run off and got married?” “What do you take them for? Much more like them to run off and not get married. But they haven’t done that either. And, speaking of that, I believe I’ve gone a bit adrift. Your fire-eater, you know--she is an extraordinary woman!” And Beverly gave his mellow, little humorous chuckle. “Hanged if I don’t begin to think she does fancy him.” “Well!” I cried, “that would explain--no, it wouldn’t. Whence comes your theory?” “Saw her look at him at dinner once last night. We dined with some people--Cornerly. She looked at him just once. Well, if she intends--by gad, it upsets one’s whole notion of her!” “Isn’t just one look rather slight basis for--”