sale of Chinese porcelains at which he had been lucky enough to pick up the set of Ming for his daughter, and Mason Winch expounded to a group of languid listeners the essential dependence of the labouring-man on the prosperity of Wall Street. In a retired corner, Ned Bowfort was imparting facts of a more personal nature to a chosen following who hailed with suppressed enjoyment the murmured mention of proper names; and now and then Amherst found himself obliged to say to Fenton Carbury, who with one accord had been left on his hands, “Yes, I understand the flat-tread tire is best,” or, “There’s a good deal to be said for the low tension magneto”
But all the while his conscious thoughts were absorbed in the remembrance of his talk with Justine Brent. He had left his wife’s presence in that state of moral lassitude when the strongest hopes droop under the infection of indifference and hostility, and the effort of attainment seems out of all proportion to the end in view; but as he listened to Justine all his energies sprang to life again. Here at last was some one who felt the urgency of his task: her every word and look confirmed her comment of the afternoon: “Westmore must be foremost to you both in time—I don’t see how either of you can escape it.”
She saw it, as he did, to be the special outlet offered
for the expression of what he was worth to the world;
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