"No--we were offered the underwriting but we didn't fancy going so far away. It looked like a good thing, however." "So Betheson thought!" Devereux smiled. "He will likely make a pot of money out of it," Burgoyne chimed in. "If he doesn't spend two pots in the attempt," added Pendleton. "Which is altogether possible--and has been known to happen!" Porshinger laughed. And so, the ice being broken, the talk became general. The men, for courtesy's sake, tried to treat Porshinger as one of them--and succeeded in making him feel reasonably easy. They could not quite make him forget the fact that he was _not_ one of them, but that was something beyond their power. Politeness can do much, but it cannot reach far enough to make one feel an insider, who knows that he is an outsider. However, they did their best, which was very considerable; and Porshinger realized it--which was to his credit. After a while the women went off to dress, and presently the men threw away their cigars and betook themselves to their rooms. Porshinger having bathed and shaved, got leisurely into his evening clothes, and then drew a chair close beside the window. Woodside's place was visible a mile away--perched on the side of a hill among the huge forest trees. It looked calm and quiet and peaceful, and he wondered if he would not be better there than where he was: among strangers--an uncongenial interloper to them, a conscious intruder to himself. They had been very courteous, very kind, very considerate. Miss Chamberlain had been particularly hospitable. Mrs. Lorraine--he smiled in contemplation--Mrs. Lorraine was entrancing--Mrs. Lorraine would bear cultivating--Mrs. Lorraine would--he shook himself and sat up. Mrs. Lorraine was occupying too much of his thoughts. His was a campaign for social recognition first--and if Pendleton and Burgoyne were well disposed and inclined to forget the past, he might be willing also to forget.... Mrs. Lorraine looked particularly well this afternoon!--never had he realized what a superb figure was hers!--how exquisitely proportioned!--how winning her face behind its cold loveliness!--what a charming foot and ankle! She--he got up sharply. What was the matter with him? Was he actually getting interested in this coming divorcée--did she appeal only to his senses? Then, like a flash, came the recollection of the scene on the piazza the night before--and he laughed a little mockingly. _He_ would be but one of them. The fruit had been already tasted by Amherst and Pendleton--and the Lord knows how many others. At present it was Pendleton--next month it might be he--or another!... She _was_ marvellously good to look at. Never had he seen one who was her equal, who even approached her.... Well, he would try his hand--try to be one of them--and then to be the only one, if she still held his fancy. Of course it would have to be done discreetly--so that none would know but those he had displaced.