5
I WAS deeply in love with Beatrice Alster. It was true that I had seen her no more than half a dozen times and always accidentally, when her aunt had called me to the house for consultation, but she was the first girl who had ever caught my eye for more than a moment, the first girl who had ever caused me that sudden reaching out of heart and hope that can be given no other name. I was deeply in love with her, and the wide difference between our stations in life made me an arrant coward about showing in the slightest way the nature of my feelings.
One of my greatest hopes had been that the sudden elevation of my new position would place me on a footing where I should feel free to begin to show her my feeling, but as yet it had served only to increase my fears. The ominous character of
