himself only to step on Miss Jones‚Äôs silken train. Miss Jones‚Äôs smile of pardon was wintry. When he did approach a group and listen, they seemed speaking of things foreign to him‚ÅÝ‚Äîusually of people he did not know, their homes, their doings, their daughters and their fathers. They seemed to know people intimately who lived far away.
“You mean the Smiths of Boston?” asked Miss Jones.
“No, of Cleveland. They’re not related.”
‚ÄúI heard that McGhee of St. ¬ÝPaul will be in the city next week with his daughter.‚Äù
“Yes, and the Bentleys of Chicago.”
Bles passed on. He was disappointed. He was full of things to say, of mighty matters to discuss; he felt like stopping these people and crying: “Ho! What