"If I do pick one of these," said he to himself, "I'm jiggered if I let her appear in public dressed this way.

Why, out home women have been white-capped for less." Arkwright had drifted away from him; he let the crowd gently push him toward the wall, into the shelter of a clump of palms and ferns.

There, with his hands in his pockets, and upon his face what he thought an excellent imitation of Arkwright's easy, bored expression of thinly-veiled cynicism, he surveyed the scene and tried to judge it from the standpoint of the "common people." His verdict was that it was vain, frivolous, unworthy, beneath the serious consideration of a man of affairs such as he.

But he felt that he was not quite frank, in fact was dishonest, with himself in this lofty disdain.

It represented what he ought to feel, not what he actually was feeling.