eyes--a pile of books
concerning themselves with Europe, and did not see him again for some
time. Then he flashed upon us a handsome new moustache.

Our acquaintance with Mrs. Wharton was--merely formal. "Oh, very
pleased," exclaimed an equiline lady, patrician unmistakable, of
aristocratic features which we recognised from the portraits of
magazines, "I'll take this." She had in her hand a copy of the then
quite new pocket edition "Poems" of George Meredith. She was very
fashionably, strikingly, gowned, somewhat conspicuously; a large
pattern in the figure of the cloth. She carried a little dog. There
was about her something, difficult to denote, brilliant and hard in
effect, like a polished stone. And we felt the rarefied atmosphere of
a wealthy, highly cultivated, rather haughty society. "Charge to
Edward Wharton," she said, very nicely, bending over us as we wrote
"Lenox, Mass." She pronounced it not Massachusetts, but Mass, as is
not infrequent in the East. "Thank you," she said; she swept from us.
Our regard was won to this incarnation of distinction by the pleasant
humanity of her manners, her very gracious "Good morning" to the
elevator man as she left.

"Dicky" Davis we always called him behind his back. And such he looks.
A man of "strapping" physique, younger in a general effect than
probably he is; immense chest and shoulders, great "meaty" back;
constructed like (we picture) those gladiators Borrow lyrically
acclaims the "noble bruisers of old England"; complexion, (to employ
perhaps an excessive stylistic restraint) not pale. A heavy stick. A
fondness for stocks. Very becoming. A vitality with an aversion,
apparently, to wearing an overcoat in the coldest weather; deeming this
probably an appurtenance of the invalid. Funny style of trowsers as if
made for legs about a foot longer. In the reign of "high waters"!

We had picked up the notion that Mr. Davis was a snobbish person; we
found him a very friendly man; gentle, describes it, in manner. Very
respectful to clerks. "One of the other gentlemen here ordered another
book for me," he mentions. But more. A sort of camaraderie. Says,
one day, that he just stepped in to dodge some people he saw coming.
Inquires, "Well, what's going on in the book world?" Buys travel
books, Africa and such. Buys a quart of ink at a clip. He conveyed to
us further, unconsciously, perhaps, a subtle impression that he was, in
sympathy with us, on our s