New York of luxurious homes; of culture and of art; of refinement and
elegance. The New York that has grown up since, with its vast wealth,
its brazen glitter, its tides that roll up riches as the sea rolls up
the sand, was not yet. It was still in its infancy, a chrysalis as yet
sleeping within its golden cocoon.

Keith had no idea there were so many handsome and stylish young women in
the world as he now saw. He had forgotten how handsome the American girl
is in her best appointment. They sailed down the avenue looking as fine
as young fillies at a show, or streamed through the best shopping
streets as though not only the shops, but the world belonged to them,
and it were no longer the meek, but the proud, that inherit the earth.

If in the throngs on the streets there were often marked contrasts,
Keith was too exhilarated to remark it--at least, at first. If women
with worn faces and garments unduly thin in the frosty air, carrying
large bundles in their pinched hands, hurried by as though hungry, not
only for food, but for time in which to earn food; if sad-eyed men with
hollow cheeks, sunken chests, and threadbare clothes shambled eagerly
along, he failed to note them in his first keen enjoyment of the
pageant. Old clothes meant nothing where he came from; they might be the
badge of perilous enterprise and well-paid industry, and food and fire
were at least common to all.

Keith, indeed, moved about almost in a trance, absorbing and enjoying
the sights. It was Humanity in flood; Life at full tide.

Many a woman and not a few men turned to take a second look at the
tanned, eager face and straight, supple figure, as, with smiling, yet
keen eyes, he stalked along with the free, swinging gait caught on the