"Well, at any rate you are a picturesque personage, even if you can't wear riding-clothes."
"Doesn't a man look like the devil in these togs?" Austin posed awkwardly in front of a mirror.
"There's only one person who can look worse in riding-clothes than a man—that's a woman."
"What heresy, particularly in a society doctor! But I agree with you. I learned to ride on her account, you know. As a matter of fact, I hate it. The sight of a horse fills me with terror."
Doctor Suydam laughed outright at this. "She tells me that you have a very good seat."
"Really!" Austin's eyes gleamed suddenly. "You know I never had a chance to ride when I was a youngster—in fact, I never had an opportunity to do anything except work. That's what makes me so crude and awkward. What I know I have picked up during the last few years."
"You make me tired!" declared the former. "You aren't—"
"Oh, I don't skate on waxed floors nor spill tea, nor clutch at my chauffeur in a tight place, but you know what I mean. I feel lonesome in a dress-suit, a butler fills me with gloom, and—Well, I'm not one of you, that's all."
"Perhaps that's what makes a hit with Marmion. She's used to the other kind."
"It seems to me that I have always worked," ruminated the former speaker. "I don't remember that I ever had time to play, even after I came to the city. It's a mighty sad thing to rob a boy of his childhood; it makes him a dull, unattractive sort when he grows up. I used to read about people like Miss Moore, but I never expected to know them until I met you. Of course, that corn deal rather changed things."