convinced--and in his firm conviction was entirely wrong.

The real truth was that Mrs. Vanderlyn, made bold by the possession of
her money, had thought it was the magic key which certainly would open
every door for her. There were doors in New York City, which, coming
from the West, she had been palpitantly anxious to pass through, and,
to her amazement, she found that money would not open them. Then there
had occurred to her the brilliant plan of conquering, first, the
aristocracy of Europe, who, the newspapers had told her, bowed in
great humility before the eagle on the Yankee gold-piece. To the doors
with crests upon their paneling, abroad, she had therefore borne her
golden key that summer, only to discover that it fitted their locks
quite as ill as those upon Fifth Avenue. Her heart was saddened with
the woe of failure. The second officer could not guess that, sore from
buffetings from those who would have none of her, she had been glad to
secure passage on this ten-day boat, where, during the long voyage,
she could haughtily refuse to notice those of whom she would have
none. She had searched for a place and found one where she could
scorn as she had recently been scorned. Her soul was black-and-blue
from snubs. She wished to snub. A climber, who had failed to climb the
highest social ladder, the handsome, haughty lady found a certain
satisfaction in sitting for ten days upon the very apex of another
ladder--briefer, less important, very little, to be sure, but still a
social ladder--and giving it a quick, sharp shake as humble people put
their feet upon it timidly, bowing and smiling tentatively at her
unresponsive person. It was a sort of balm to her sore soul so see
them tumble metaphorically, upon their backs. Her demeanor on the
_Rochester_ was the demeanor of a princess among aliens whom she
utterly despises. The Cook's tourists, traveling school-teachers and
young married couples homeward-bound after modest European honeymoons,