He was pondering over the delight of youthful beauty.
"I'll have a bouquet for her," he thought.

"Drouet won't mind." He never for a moment concealed the fact of her attraction for himself.
He troubled himself not at all about Drouet's priority.

He was merely floating those gossamer threads of thought which, like the spider's, he hoped would lay hold somewhere.

He did not know, he could not guess, what the result would be.
A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, encountered one of his well-dressed lady acquaintances in Chicago on his return from a short trip to Omaha.

He had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surprise Carrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation and soon modified his original intention.
"Let's go to dinner," he said, little recking any chance meeting which might trouble his way.
"Certainly," said his companion.
They visited one of the better restaurants for a social chat.