s less worthy profession.

Three or four cheap fellows, sonorously garbed, were leaning over
the counters, wrestling with the mediatorial hand-coverings, while
giggling girls played vivacious seconds to their lead upon the
strident string of coquetry. Carter would have retreated, but he
had gone too far. Masie confronted him behind her counter with a
questioning look in eyes as coldly, beautifully, warmly blue as the
glint of summer sunshine on an iceberg drifting in Southern seas.

And then Irving Carter, painter, millionaire, etc., felt a warm flush
rise to his aristocratically pale face. But not from diffidence. The
blush was intellectual in origin. He knew in a moment that he stood
in the ranks of the ready-made youths who wooed the giggling girls at
other counters. Himself leaned against the oaken trysting place of
a cockney Cupid with a desire in his heart for the favor of a glove
salesgirl. He was no more than Bill and Jack and Mickey. And then he
felt a sudden tolerance for them, and an elating, courageous contempt
for the conventions upon which he had fed, and an unhesitating
determination to have this perfect creature for his own.

When the gloves were paid for and wrapped Carter lingered for a
moment. The dimples at the corners of Masie's damask mouth deepened.
All gentlemen who bought gloves lingered in just that way. She curved
an arm, showing like Psyche's through her shirt-waist sleeve, and
rested an elbow upon the show-case edge.

Carter had never before encountered a situation of which he had not
been perfect master. But now he stood far more awkward than Bill
or Jack or Mickey. He had no chance of meeting this beautiful girl
socially. His mind struggled to recall the nature and habits of
shopgirls as he had read or heard of them. Somehow he had received
the idea that they sometimes did not insist too strictly upon the
regular channels of introduction. His heart beat loudly at the
thought of proposing an unconventional meeting with this lovely and
virginal being. But the tumult in his heart gave him courage.

After a few friendly and well-received remarks on general subjects,
he laid his card by her hand on the counter.

"Will you please pardon me," he said, "if I seem too bold; but I
earnestly hope you will allow me the pleasure of seeing you again.
There is my name; I assure you that it is with the greatest respect
that I ask the favor of becoming one of your fr--acquaintances. May
I not hope f