" He took no one with him. He
could think of no one with whom he cared to go.

As he drove his mind was busy with all sorts of speculations. In his
hurt pride he had said to a girl: "If I can't make you think differently
of me it won't be for lack of will." That meant--what did it mean? That
he had recognized the fact that she despised idlers--and that young rich
men who spent a few hours, on an average of five days of the week, in
assisting elderly gentlemen bereft of their eyesight in looking up old
records, did not thereby in her estimation remove themselves from the
class of those who do nothing in the world but attend to the spending of
their incomes.

What should he do--how prove himself fit to deserve her approval?
Unquestionably he must devote himself seriously to some serious
occupation. All sorts of ideas chased one another through his mind in
response to this stimulus. What was he fitted to do? He had a certain
facility in the use of the pen, as he had proved in the service of Judge
Calvin Gray. Should he look for a job as reporter on one of the city
dailies? He certainly could not offer himself for any post higher than
that of the rawest scribe on the force; he had had no experience. The
thought of seeking such a post made his lip curl with the absurdity of
the notion. They would make a society reporter of him; it would be the
first idea that would occur to them. It was the only thing for which
they would think him fit!

The thing he should like to do would be to travel on some interesting
commission for his grandfather. On what commission, for instance? The
purchasing of rare works of art for the picture-gallery of the great
store? No mean exhibition it was they had there. But he had not the
training for such a commission; he would be cheated out of hand when it
came to buying! They sent skilled buyers on such quests.

He thought of rushing off to the far West and buying a ranch. That was a
fit and proper thing for a fellow like himself; plenty of rich men's
sons had done it. If she could see him in cowboy garb, rough-clad,
sunburnt, muscular, she would respect him then perhaps. There would be
no more flinging at him that he was a cotillion leader! How he hated the
term!

The day was fair and cold, the roads rather better than he had expected,
and by luncheon-time he had reached a large town, seventy miles away
from his own city, where he knew of an exceptionally good place to
obtain a refreshing meal