What else can I do?
We've got to find something. I know you've tried hard enough, but the whole world can't be prejudiced. Mr. Sumner said . . .
That snob! I don't want any of his help!
Byron!
I mean it. They've never asked me to their place since that night I met you there.
But why should they ask you, Byron?
They don't pay any attention to me. I suppose I'm not good enough for them.
Don't be silly. Mr. Sumner is far from being a snob. How can you expect him to find time to see everybody he knows? He's a very busy man, Byron, and you are probably one of a thousand young men who need his help. Do you expect him to be nice to them all? Be reasonable. It's your place to look him up.
Never. . . . He knows my father, he added lamely.
He knows mine too. Father stopped there the last time he was in town, but I don't ever expect to be invited there more than twice a year. They have too many obligations to be constantly attentive to everybody. You mustn't be so sensitive, she pleaded, rubbing his palm against her cheek. I've seen so many awful things happen through sensitiveness. Why, Mr. Sumner isn't even thinking about you. He's probably forgotten your very ex-
