alls of "where are you, old man?"
from Colfax, who appeared not to want to be away from him.

"Well, old man," he would say, looking him over much as one might a
blood horse or a pedigree dog, "you're getting on. This new job agrees
with you. You didn't look like that when you came to me," and he would
feel the latest suit Eugene might be wearing, or comment on some pin or
tie he had on, or tell him that his shoes were not as good as he could
really get, if he wanted to be perfect in dress. Colfax was for grooming
his new prize much as one might groom a blood horse, and he was always
telling Eugene little details of social life, the right things to do,
the right places to be seen, the right places to go, as though Eugene
knew little or nothing.

"Now when we go down to Mrs. Savage's Friday afternoon, you get a
Truxton Portmanteau. Have you seen them? Well, there's the thing. Got a
London coat? Well, you ought to have one. Those servants down there go
through your things and they size you up accordingly. Nothing less than
two dollars each goes, and five dollars to the butler, remember that."

He assumed and insisted after a fashion which Eugene resented quite as
much as he did his persistent ignoring of Angela, but he did not dare
comment on it. He could see that Colfax was variable, that he could hate
as well as love, and that he rarely took any intermediate ground. Eugene
was his favorite now.

"I'll send my car around for you at two Friday," he would say, as though
Eugene did not keep a car, when he was planning one of his week-end
excursions. "You be ready."

At two, on that day, Colfax's big blue touring car would come speeding
up to the entrance of the apartment house and Eugene's valet would carry
down his bags, golf sticks, tennis racket and the various paraphernalia
that go with a week-end's entertainment, and off the car would roll. At
times Angela would be left behind, at times taken, when Eugene could
arrange it; but he found that he had to be tactful and accede to
Colfax's indifference mostly. Eugene would always explain to her how it
was. He was sorry for her in a way, and yet he felt there was some
justice in the distinction. She was not exactly suited to that topmost
world in which he was now beginning to move. These people were colder,
sharper, shrewder, than Angela. They had more of that intense
sophistication of manner and experience than she could achieve. As a
matter of fact, Angela had as much