He could probably have persuaded himself with much less reasoning if he had not had a secret inclination to go; but, as it was, he reasoned himself into it, and thought that he thought it was a bore. So he went to Mrs. Roster's ball. Of course he admired the beauty of American women; the beauty of American women is like the Hudson River; one is bound to prefer it to the Rhine. He thought the party was very pretty and the dancing beautifully done, and, moreover, he made the acquaintance of several young ladies of quite a different type than Miss Thomas's. They had plenty of breeding and intelligence, and talked the latest slang of culture to perfection, and were evidently of the great world, if they had not quite so much charm as she. Still none of these, as yet, were essentially American, or even very deeply English, though they dabbled in it. Miss Thomas herself, for some reason unknown to Vane, did not receive quite so much attention as he had fancied that she would. It was not her fault, for she was charmingly dressed and never looked prettier. As he was ready to leave he met her, for the first time, coming down the stairs in wraps and wanting her carriage. "You have not spoken to me the whole evening," said she softly, as she took his arm. "I was afraid to, mademoiselle," said Vane, half jocosely. "Come to-morrow," she whispered seriously. "It is my day for receiving, and I shall be so glad to see you." Vane bowed his thanks, and the next moments were occupied in conveying herself and skirts safely into the coupé. As he was about to shut the door she extended her hand frankly: "You will come, won't you?" Vane was a little puzzled; he took her hand awkwardly, and muttered something about being only too delighted. He had no experience whatever of American women, much less American girls. Why should she so particularly wish to see him? He called the next day, expecting to learn, but in that he was doomed to disappointment. Apparently Miss Thomas, if she had any reason, had forgotten it; she had very little to say, and the call was quite conventional and commonplace. "Bah!" he thought, as he walked home. "Here I have wasted half an afternoon over this girl simply because she asked me. Doubtless she herself had nothing better to do than waste it over me." And perhaps he added secretly that his life was something more serious than hers, and, at all events, he had no mind for light flirtation. VI.