The “infant” arrived as she spoke. He was a mild, blonde, inoffensive-looking youth, so faithful to his type that it was difficult to remember him by name until closer acquaintance had called out his little individualities. He had his importance and use, however; he knew how to get up and carry off a ball. He even attended to the paying of the bills when husbands were too busy or had moved to Greenwood. He had saved Hermia a great deal of trouble, and she rewarded him by taking him to the theater occasionally. He admired her in a distant, awe-struck way, much as a pug admires the moon; but he preferred Helen Simms.
“I am afraid you will find it rather cold for walking,” he said to Helen, with his nationally incorrect imitation of English drawl and accent. “It is quite beastly out, don’t you know?”
“Yes,” said Helen, “I know; but you will have to stand it. Good-bye, Hermia. A walk would not hurt you; you are looking pale.”
“Aren’t you going to let me sit down for a moment?” asked Winston.
“No, it is getting late; and, besides, Hermia doesn’t want you. Come.”
They went out, and Miss Starbruck remarked: “That is the average man of to-day, I suppose. They were different when I was young.”
“Oh, no; that is not the average man,” said Hermia; “that is only the average society man. They are two distinct species, I assure you.”
“Well, at all events, I prefer him to that dreadful Mr. Quintard. I hope he will not come to this house, Hermia.”
“Oh, I have invited him,” said Hermia, indifferently. “He shines beside some who come here, if you did but know it.”
“Then I am thankful I do not know it,” exclaimed Miss Starbruck. “I think I will go up-stairs and talk to Miss Newton.”