She seemed wholly unconscious of him, and so he could not flirt with any spirit; he could only talk disjointedly; he could not keep his eyes on the charmers he talked to; he grew irritable, jealous, and very, unhappy.

He gave up his enterprise, leaned his shoulder against a fluted pilaster and pouted while he kept watch upon Laura's every movement.

His other shoulder stole the bloom from many a lovely cheek that brushed him in the surging crush, but he noted it not.

He was too busy cursing himself inwardly for being an egotistical imbecile.

An hour ago he had thought to take this country lass under his protection and show her "life" and enjoy her wonder and delight--and here she was, immersed in the marvel up to her eyes, and just a trifle more at home in it than he was himself.