There was a sketch of his life and also of that of his wife.

Their marriage, it was recalled, had been one of the "romances" of the season a few years before.

He had taken society by surprise by carrying off one of the belles of the season, the beautiful Miss Yorke.
The rest of the notice was taken up in conjectures as to the amount of his property and the sums he would be likely to leave to the various charitable institutions of which he had always been a liberal patron.
Keith laid the paper down on his knee and went off in a revery.

Mr.
Lancaster was dead! Of all the men he had met in New York he had in some ways struck him the most.

He had appeared to him the most perfect type of a gentleman; self-contained, and inclined to be cold, but a man of elegance as well as of brains.