Men like Dulac—the work they were engaged upon—had not fallen within the circle of Bonbright's experience. Bonbright's training and instincts had all been aristocratic. At Harvard he had belonged to the most exclusive clubs and had associated with youths of training similar to his. In his athletics there had been something democratic, but nothing to impress him with democracy. Where college broadens some men by its contacts it had not broadened Bonbright, for his contacts had been limited to individuals chipped from the same strata as himself…. In his home life, before going to college, this had been even more marked. As some boys are taught arithmetic and table manners, Bonbright had been taught veneration for his family, appreciation for his position in the world, and to look upon himself and the few associates of his circumscribed world as selected stock, looked upon with especial favor and graciousness by the Creator of the universe.
Therefore this sudden dip into reality set him shivering more than it would another who entered the water by degrees. It upset him…. The man Dulac stirred to life in him something that was deeper than mere curiosity.
"Miss—" said he, and paused. "I really don't know your name."
"Frazer," she supplied.
"Miss Frazer, I should like to meet this Dulac. Would you be willing?"
She considered. It was an unusual request in unusual circumstances, but why not? She looked up into his boyish face and smiled. "Why not?" she said, aloud.
They pressed forward through the crowd until they reached Dulac, standing beside his barrel, surrounded by a little knot of men. He saw the girl approaching, and lifted his hand in acknowledgment of her presence. Presently he came to her, casting a careless glance at Bonbright.
"Mr. Dulac," she said, "Mr. Foote has been listening to your speech. He wants to meet you."
"Foote!" said Dulac. "Not—"
"Mr. Bonbright Foote," said the girl.