She looked at her companion.

He had been "a vagabond" all winter in New York; but there were few more presentable men.

Moreover, she felt at home with him as a _compatriot_.

Yes, this would do very well.
Miss Grace Plumer had scarcely mentally installed Mr.Sligo Moultrie as first flirter in her corps, when a face she remembered looked up at the window from the street, more dangerous even than when she had seen it in the spring.

It was the face of Abel Newt, who raised his hat and bowed to her with an admiration which he concealed that he took care to show.
The next moment he was in the room, perfectly _comme il faut_, sparkling, resistless.
"My dear Miss Plumer, I knew spring was coming.