It was an article on New Leeds.
It praised, in florid sentences, the place and the people, gave a reasonably true account of the rise of the town, set forth in a veiled way a highly colored prospectus of the Wickersham properties, and asserted explicitly that all the lands of value had been secured by this company, and that such as were now being offered outside were those which Wickersham had refused as valueless after a thorough and searching examination.

The falsity of the statements made Keith boil with rage.
Mr.J.Quincy Plume immediately flashed into his mind.
As he walked along, the newspaper clutched in his hand, a man brushed against him.

Keith's mind was far away on Quincy Plume and Ferdy Wickersham; but instinctively, as his shoulder touched the stranger's, he said: "I beg your pardon." At the words the other turned and glanced at him casually; then stopped, turned and caught up with him, so as to take a good look at his face.
The next second a hand was on Keith's shoulder.
"Why, Gordon Keith!" Keith glanced up in a maze at the vigorous-looking, well-dressed young man who was holding out his gloved hand to him, his blue eyes full of a very pleasant light.

Keith's mind had been so far away that for a second it did not return.

Then a light broke over his face.