"An admirable young fellow!" he had exclaimed to Edith Whyland, upon Abner's leaving them to cross over to Medora. "Oh yes, yes!" she had returned with conviction. "So serious." "Oh yes,"--with less emphasis. She knew Abner was serious because he was puzzled. "So grave." "Yes,"--faintly. She knew Abner was grave because he was shocked. "A painter?" "A--an artist." "He has personality. He will make a name for himself, I am sure." The good Doctor, now alone with Abner, gave him a chance to celebrate himself, to make known what there was in him. But Abner remained inexpressive; and the Doctor, who himself was very ready of tongue and who, like all fluent people, was much impressed by reserve, presently went away with a higher opinion of Abner than ever. Medora came up, extending her card. "I have secured another dance for you," she said. "Mr. Bond was kind enough to give it up. He will know what to do with the time. On this occasion, if you please, we might walk it out instead of sitting it out. At least we might walk to the supper-room." Abner rose. He had never before offered his arm to a lady and was not sure that he had offered it now, yet Medora's fingers rested upon his coat-sleeve. For a few moments he felt himself, half proudly, half uncomfortably, a part of the spectacle, and then they entered the room where the spare refreshments were dispensed. Medora found a place, and Abner, doing as he saw the other men do, went forward to traffic across a long table with a coloured waiter. He brought back to Medora what he saw the other men bringing--a spoonful of ice-cream with a thin slice of cake, and a cup of coffee of limited size. Truly the material for an orgy seemed rather scanty. "I am glad you promised to read," said Medora. "It is a favour that Mrs. Whyland will appreciate very much." Abner bowed. Surely it was a favour, and appreciation was no more than his due. "I only wish you could have seen your way to being as nice to poor Mrs. Pence. I overheard her--didn't I?--asking you once more to call. Weren't you rather non-committal? Were you, strictly speaking, quite civil?" "I was as civil as those silly, chattering people round her would let me be--that niece of hers and the rest. I'm sure I was careful to ask after her Training School." "Oh, _that's_ what made her look so dazed!" "Why should it?" asked Abner, his spoon checked in mid-air. "She could hardly have expected such an inquiry from _you_. Haven't I heard that you threw her down on this training-school idea, and threw her down pretty hard too, the very first time you met her? She wanted help, sympathy, encouragement, suggestions, and instead of that you gave her the--the marble heart, as they say. You made her feel so feeble and flimsy----" "Did I?" asked Abner gropingly. Eudoxia loomed before him in all her largeness.