What are you to do, Sharlee? I feel sure the man is not
dishonest,--in fact he has a singularly honest face, transparently
so,--but he is only somehow queer. He appears an engrossed,
absent-minded young man--what is the word I want?--an eccentric. That is
what he is, an engrossed young eccentric."
Sharlee leaned against the bureau and looked at her aunt thoughtfully.
"Do you gather, Aunt Jennie, that he's a gentleman?"
Mrs. Paynter threw out her hands helplessly. "What does the term mean
nowadays? The race of gentlemen, as the class existed in my day, seems
to be disappearing from the face of the earth. We see occasional
survivals of the old order, like Gardiner West or the young Byrd men,
but as a whole--well, my dear, I will only say that the modern standards
would have excited horror fifty years ago and--"
"Well, but according to the modern standards, do you think he is?"
"I _don't_ know. He is and he isn't. But no--no--no! He is _not_ one. No
man can be a gentleman who is utterly indifferent to the comfort and
feelings of others, do you think so?"
"Indeed, no! And is that what he is?"
"I will illustrate by an incident," said Mrs.
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