Keith went to New York.

Only one thought marred Keith's joy: the dearest aim he had so long had
in view had disappeared. The triumph of standing before Alice Yorke and
offering her the reward of his endeavor was gone. All he could do was to
show her what she had lost. This he would do; he would win life's
highest honors. He grew grim with resolve.

Something of this triumphant feeling showed in his mien and in his face
as he plunged into the crowded life of the city. From the time he passed
into the throng that streamed up the long platforms of the station and
poured into the wide ferry-boats, like grain pouring through a mill, he
felt the thrill of the life. This was what he had striven for. He would
take his place here and show what was in him.

He had forgotten how gay the city life was. Every place of public resort
pleased him: theatres, hotels, beer-gardens; but best of all the
streets. He took them all in with absolute freedom and delight.

Business was the watchword, the trade-mark. It buzzed everywhere, from
the Battery to the Park. It thronged the streets, pulsating through the
outlets and inlets at ferries and railway-stations and crossings, and
through the great buildings that were already beginning to tower in the
business sections. It hummed in the chief centres. And through it all
and beyond it all shone opulence, opulence gilded and gleaming and
dazzling in its glitter: in the big hotels; in the rich shops; in the
gaudy theatres; along the fine avenues: a display of wealth to make the
eyes ache; an exhibition of riches never seen before. It did Keith good
at first just to stand in the street and watch the pageant as it passed
like a gilded panorama. Of the inner New York he did not yet know: the