If he presented a man of letters to an eminent
banker, he informed each in a word or two of the other's
distinguished merits. An officer would be complimented on his rank
or public service, a scientist on his last book or essay, a leading
politician on his statesmanship. At Mr. Birtwell's you always found
yourself among men with more in them than you had suspected, and
felt half ashamed of your ignorance in regard to their great
achievements.
General Abercrombie, like many others that evening, felt unusually
well satisfied with himself. Mr. Birtwell complimented him whenever
they happened to meet, sometimes on his public services and
sometimes on the "sensation" that elegant woman Mrs. Abercrombie was
making. He grew in his own estimation under the flattering
attentions of his host, and felt a manlier pride swelling in his
heart than he had for some time known. His bearing became more
self-poised, his innate sense of strength more apparent. Here was a
man among men.
This was the general's state of mind when, after an hour, or two of
social intercourse, he entered the large supper-room, whither he
escorted a lady. He had not seen his wife for half an hour. If she
had been, as usual on such occasions, by his side, he would have
been on guard. But the lady who leaned on his arm was not his good
angel. She was a gay, fashionable woman, and as fond of good eating
and drinking as any male epicure there.
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