Mr. Palmer, the general manager of the Cataract Mills, became very much interested in Stephen Dallas. He had no son of his own; he had no protégé in whom to feel pride and pleasure. He could well feel pride and pleasure in Stephen. Stephen was by nature very adaptable, very approachable. His father’s act had only temporarily crippled his graceful self-confidence. He was tall and slight, more aristocratic than rugged in appearance; forehead high, eyes well-set, chin and mouth strong and distinctive. His dark, close-cut hair grew thick on top of his head, but receded on either side like so many American boys still in their twenties. The mustache, restrained and close-cut, which he had allowed to grow when he first came to Milhampton, in order to make him forget whom he had been before, gave him a foreign look.

“English,” delightedly whispered some of the Milhampton women, to whom everything English was desirable.

Mr. Palmer suggested his name for membership at the Milhampton City Club; at the River Country Club; introduced him to a group of young lawyers. Stephen ran across some old college acquaintances, some old law-school contemporaries. Swiftly, old lines of communication were established between himself and the world to which he belonged. The impression he made on Milhampton was distinctly favorable.

One day Mrs. Palmer invited Stephen and his wife to dinner. Others invited Stephen and his wife to dinner. Stephen became very anxious to feel pride in Stella, now that he had begun to feel pride again in himself. Stella became very anxious that he should feel pride in her. To appear the lady Stephen’s wife should have been born became Stella’s greatest ambition. On the first few occasions when she appeared with Stephen before the footlights of the social life in Milhampton—a stage she had gazed upon with longing eyes for years—she would do nothing, say nothing, almost think nothing, until it was first approved by Stephen. At first she invited his criticism, responded with eagerness to his constant drilling and grilling, welcomed his slightest suggestion. Of course she made progress. She was a clever mimic. At first Stephen had great hopes for Stella.

4

BUT SUCCESS WENT to Stella’s head like wine, even a small amount of success. Stella never became the belle she thought she did in Milhampton society, but she was, for a period, received and accepted by certain of its high prelates and officials, for Stephen’s sake. It puffed her all up; it filled her with disastrous self-confidence. Within a period of a few weeks the limelight of recognition made of the soft, pliable clay Stella had been in Stephen’s hands, something hard and brittle that would fly to pieces at his slightest touch.