If there was a touch of appreciation left in him for the bloom and unsophistication which is the charm of youth, it rekindled now.

He looked into her pretty face and felt the subtle waves of young life radiating therefrom.

In that large clear eye he could see nothing that his blase nature could understand as guile.

The little vanity, if he could have perceived it there, would have touched him as a pleasant thing.
"I wonder," he said, as he rode away in his cab, "how Drouet came to win her." He gave her credit for feelings superior to Drouet at the first glance.
The cab plopped along between the far-receding lines of gas lamps on either hand.

He folded his gloved hands and saw only the lighted chamber and Carrie's face.