Mrs. Taylor, having discovered in Mr. Littleton one who should have been a friend long before, succeeded in carrying him off to dinner.  Yet, before taking his leave, he came back to Selma for a few words.  She had overheard Mrs. Taylor’s invitation, and she asked herself why she too might not become better acquainted with this young man whose attitude toward her was that of respectful admiration.  To have a strange young man to dine off-hand struck her as novel.  She had a general conviction that it would seem to Lewis closely allied to light conduct, and that only foreigners or frivolous people let down to this extent the bars of family life.  Now that Mrs. Taylor had set her the example, she was less certain of the moral turpitude of such an act, but she concluded also that her husband would be in the way at table.  What she desired was an opportunity for a long, interesting chat about high things.

While she reflected, he was saying to her, “I understand that your committee is to supervise my work until the new church is completed, so I shall hope to have the opportunity to meet you occasionally.  It will be necessary for me to make trips here from time to time to see that everything is being done correctly by the mechanics.”

“Do you go away immediately?”

“It may be that I shall be detained by the arrangements which I must make here until day after to-morrow.”

“If you would really like to see me, I live at 25 Onslow Avenue.”

“Thank you very much.”  Littleton took out a small memorandum book and carefully noted the address.  “Mrs. Babcock, 25 Onslow Avenue.  I shall make a point of calling to-morrow afternoon if I stay—­and probably I shall.”

He bowed and left Selma pleasantly stirred by the interview.  His voice was low and his enunciation sympathetically fluent.  She said to herself that she would give him afternoon tea and they would compare ideas together.  She felt sure that his must be interesting.

Later in the evening at Mrs. Taylor’s, when there was a pause in their sympathetic interchange of social and aesthetic convictions, Littleton said abruptly: 

“Tell me something, please, about Mrs. Babcock.  She has a suggestive as well as a beautiful face, and it is easy to perceive that she is genuinely American—­not one of the women of whom we were speaking, who seem to be ashamed of their own institutions, and who ape foreign manners and customs.  I fancy she would illustrate what I was saying just now as to the vital importance of our clinging to our heritage of independent thought—­of accepting the truth of the ancient order of things without allowing its lies and demerits to enslave us.”