The moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon.
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