"Read it before you turn in, Stephen." "All right; but I'll be down later," replied Siward passing on, the letter in his hand.

Entering his room he kicked off his wet pumps and found dry ones.

Then moved about, whistling a gay air from some recent vaudeville, busy with rough towels and silken foot-gear, until, reshod and dry, he was ready to descend once more.
The encounter, the suddenly informal acquaintance with this young girl had stirred him agreeably, leaving a slight exhilaration.

Even her engagement to Quarrier added a tinge of malice to his interest.

Besides he was young enough to feel the flattery of her concern for him--of her rebuke, of her imprudence, her generous emotional and childish philosophy.
Perhaps, as like recognises like, he recognised in her the instincts of the born drifter, momentarily at anchor--the temporary inertia of the opportunist, the latent capacity of an unformed character for all things and anything.