And then, with one more look at her pitiful face of misery, he turned and went away, without even touching her hand.

CHAPTER VIII

It was now well on in May, and most of the people of Montague’s acquaintance had moved out to their country places; and those who were chained to their desks had yachts or automobiles or private cars, and made the trip into the country every afternoon.  Montague was invited to spend another week at Eldridge Devon’s, where Alice had been for a week; but he could not spare the time until Saturday afternoon, when he made the trip up the Hudson in Devon’s new three-hundred-foot steam-yacht, the Triton.  Some unkind person had described Devon to Montague as “a human yawn”; but he appeared to have a very keen interest in life that Saturday afternoon.  He had been seized by a sudden conviction that a new and but little advertised automobile had proven its superiority to any of the seventeen cars which he at present maintained in his establishment.  He had got three of these new cars, and while Montague sat upon the quarter-deck of the Triton and gazed at the magnificent scenery of the river, he had in his ear the monotonous hum of Devon’s voice, discussing annular ball-bearings and water-jacketed cylinders.

One of the new cars met them at Devon’s private pier, and swept them over the hill to the mansion.  The Devon place had never looked more wonderful to Montague than it did just then, with fruit trees in full blossom, and the wonder of springtime upon everything.  For miles about one might see hillsides that were one unbroken stretch of luscious green lawn.  But alas, Eldridge Devon had no interest in these hills, except to pursue a golf-ball over them.  Montague never felt more keenly the pitiful quality of the people among whom he found himself than when he stood upon the portico of this house—­a portico huge enough to belong to some fairy palace in a dream—­and gazed at the sweeping vista of the Hudson over the heads of Mrs. Billy Alden and several of her cronies, playing bridge.

* * *

After luncheon, he went for a stroll with Alice, and she told him how she had been passing the time.  “Young Curtiss was here for a couple of days,” she said.

“General Prentice’s nephew?” he asked.

“Yes.  He told me he had met you,” said she.  “What do you think of him?”

“He struck me as a sensible chap,” said Montague.

“I like him very much,” said Alice.  “I think we shall be friends.  He is interesting to talk to; you know he was in a militia regiment that went to Cuba, and also he’s been a cowboy, and all sorts of exciting things.  We took a walk the other morning, and he told me some of his adventures.  They say he’s quite a successful lawyer.”

“He is in a very successful firm,” said Montague.  “And he’d hardly have got there unless he had ability.”

“He’s a great friend of Laura Hegan’s,” said Alice.  “She was over here to spend the day.  She doesn’t approve of many people, so that is a compliment.”