of form, and much more than that besides.  Of an old name but a scanty fortune, he had won his place by his individual merits; chiefly, perhaps, for so wags the world, by an exterior singularly prepossessing and a manner that was a possession above rubies.  His were good looks of the best fashion of men’s good looks; not a tall man, he yet gave the effect of tallness, so perfect was his carriage, so handsome his address.  And he was as clever as charming; cultured as the world knows culture; literary as the term goes; nor was there any one who made a happier speech than he, whether in the forum or around the festal board.  Detractors, of course, he had—­as which of those who raise their heads above the dead level have not?—­but they usually contented themselves with saying, as Buck Klinker had once said, that his manners were a little too good to be true.  To most he seemed a fine type of the young American of the modern South; a brave gentleman; a true Democrat with all his honors; and, though he had not yet been tested in any position of responsibility, a rising man who held the future in his hand.

They took their seats, and at last he freed himself from the unsteadying embarrassment which had shaken him at the first sight of her under the brilliant lights of the ballroom.

“Two things have happened to make this seventh of March a memorable day for me,” said he.  “Two great honors have come to me.  They are both for your ear alone.”

She flung upon him the masked battery of her eyes.  They were extraordinary eyes, gray and emerald, not large, but singularly long.  He looked fully into them, and she slowly smiled.

“The other honor,” said Charles Gardiner West, “is of a commoner kind.  They want to make me president of Blaines College.”

“Oh—­really!” said Miss Avery, and paused.  “And shall you let them do it?”

He nodded, suddenly thoughtful and serious.  “Long before snow flies, Semple & West will be Semple and Something else.  They’ll elect me in June.  I needn’t say that no one must know of this now—­but you.”

“Of course.  It is a great honor,” she said, with faint enthusiasm.  “But why are you giving up your business?  Doesn’t it interest you?”

He made a large gesture.  “Oh, it interests me....  But what does it all come to, at the last?  A man aspires to find some better use for his abilities than dollar-baiting, don’t you think?”

Miss Avery privately thought not, though she certainly did not like his choice of terms.

“If a man became the greatest stock-jobber in the world, who would remember him after he was gone?  Miss Avery, I earnestly want to serve.  My deepest ambition is to leave some mark for the better upon my environment, my city, and my State.  I am baring my small dream for you to look at, you see.  Now this little college ...”

But a daring youth by the name of Beverley Byrd bore Miss Avery away for the figure which was just then forming, and the little college hung in the air for the nonce.  Mr. West was so fortunate as to secure the hand of Miss Weyland for the figure, he having taken the precaution to ask that privilege when he greeted her some minutes since.  Couple behind couple they formed, the length of the great room, and swung away on a brilliant march.