sport of me," she announced presently.

Instantly her companion's smile vanished. "I beg your pardon, Miss
Baker, but you misunderstood. I thought by this time you knew me better
than that."

"You really are interested, then? Would you truly like to know--what you
asked?"

"I truly would."

Florence hesitated. Her breath came a trifle more quickly. She had not
yet learned the trick of repression of the city folk.

"I think it's wonderful," she said. "Everything is wonderful. I feel
like a child in fairyland; only the fairies must be giants. This great
building, for instance,--I can't make it seem a product of mere six-foot
man! In spite of myself, I keep expecting a great genie to emerge
somewhere. I suppose this seems silly to you, but it's the feeling I
have, and it makes me realize my own insignificance."

Sidwell smoked in silence.

"That's the first impression--the most vivid one, I think. The next is
about the people themselves. I've been here nearly a half-year now, but
even yet I stare at them--as you caught me staring to-night--almost with
open mouth. To see these men in the daylight hours down town one would
think they cared more for a minute than for their eternal happiness. I'm
almost afraid to speak to them, my little affairs seem so tiny in
comparison with the big ones it must take to make men work as they do.
And then, a little later,--apparently for no other reason than that the
sun has ceased to shine,--I see them, as here, for instance, unconscious
that not minutes but hours are going by. They all seem to have double
lives. I get to thinking of them as Jekylls and Hydes. It makes me a bit
afraid."

Still Sidwell smoked in silence, and Florence observed him doubtfully.
"You really wish me to chatter on in this way?" she asked.

"I was never more interested in my life."

The girl felt her face grow warm. She was glad they were in the shadow,
so the man could not see it too clearly. For a moment she looked about
her, at the host of skilful waiters, at the crowd of brightly dressed
pleasure-seekers, at the kaleidoscopic changes, at the lights and
shadows. From somewhere invisible the string orchestra, which for a time
had been silent, started up anew, while her answering pulses beat to
swifter measure. The air was a familiar one, heard everywhere about
town; and she was conscious of a childish desire to join in singing it.
The novelty of the scene, the sparkle, the animation, the motion
intoxi