y, Stan would be at sea,
and floundering, in the subjects which my brown man of the steerage and
Sally Woodburn discussed while the squirrels frisked about their
shoulders. But then, Stan doesn't care to talk for too long about
anything except hunting, or shooting, or polo, or motoring;--not even
bridge, at which Vic says he loses a great deal of money.

We stopped in the wistaria arbour for more than an hour, as I knew by
my bracelet watch, when Sally said suddenly we must go--though I hadn't
dreamed till then that we had been half as long. I shook hands with Mr.
Brett for good-bye, and so did Sally; but nobody spoke about our
meeting again, as perhaps we should if he were in Mrs. Ess Kay's set.
It seemed very sad, and irrevocable, somehow, and I had a heavy sort of
feeling that life can be full of hard things.

His eyes looked wistful, and I said what I couldn't have said to a man
of my own rank. "I've kept those roses you sent me by that dear, funny
little black boy, all this time in water, and they are fresh still,
though a lot of others I have had since are faded," I told him; and in
that mood I didn't care whether Sally heard or not.

The brown man's face flushed up, and the wistful look in his eyes
brightened into something which I felt was gratitude for my rather
silly speech. "I think those roses will hate to die," he said.

"Perhaps I shall press them in a book," I answered, "to remind me of my
first hours in America."

Then we parted, and there was a fuss with Vivace, who had to be taken
up in my arms, or he would have choked himself with his collar, in his
desperate struggles to get free. He whimpered even then for a few
minutes, but soon he was comforted, and visibly made an effort to
content himself with the fact that he was my dog.

I set him down on the ground, and Sally and I walked on together
without speaking. But at last she said, "Penny for your thoughts,
deah?"

"I was wondering about--class distinctions in America?" I answered. "I
think--oh, I _do_ think it's very silly of you to have any at all. I
always supposed, till I knew you and Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox, that one
person was considered just as good as another in America. And it ought
to be like that, in a new country, where you haven't an aristocracy."

"We have two aristocracies," said she. "We go one better than you, for
you have only one. We have our Old Families (maybe they wouldn't seem
very old to you) and we have Wealth. They both