He soon tired of plunging through the sand hills between the city and
Ballinger Hill either on horseback or in a hack whose driver, if the
hour were late, was commonly drunk; and took a suite of rooms in the
Occidental Hotel. He had brought his library with him and one side of
his parlor was immediately furnished with books to the ceiling. It was
some time before Society saw anything of him. He had a quick reputation
to make, many articles promised to Eastern periodicals and newspapers,
no mind for distractions.
But his brilliant and daring editorials, not only on the pestiferous
politics of San Francisco, but upon national topics, soon attracted the
attention of the men; who, moreover, were fascinated by his
conversation during his occasional visits to the Union Club. Several
times he was cornered, royally treated to the best the cellar afforded,
and upon one occasion talked for two hours, prodded merely with a
question when he showed a tendency to drop into revery. But as a matter
of fact he liked to talk, knowing that he could outshine other
intelligent men, and a responsive palate put him in good humor with all
men and inspired him with unwonted desire to please.
Husbands spoke of him enthusiastically at home and wives determined to
know him. They besieged Alexina Ballinger. Why had she not done her
duty? Langdon Masters had lived in her house for weeks. Mrs. Ballinger
replied that she had barely seen the man. He rarely honored them at
dinner, sat up until four in the morning with her son-in-law (if she
were not mistaken he and Alexander Groome were two of a feather),
breakfasted at all hours, and then went directly to the city. What
possible use could such a man be to Society? He had barely looked at
Sally, much less the uxoriously married Maria, and might have been
merely an inconsiderate boarder who had given nothing but unimpaired
Virginian manners in return for so much upsetting of a household. No
doubt the servants would have rebelled had he not tipped them
immoderately. "Moreover," she concluded, "he is quite unlike our men,
if he _is_ a Southerner. And not handsome at all. His hair is black but
he wears it too short, and he had no mustache, nor even sideboards. His
face has deep lines and his eyes are like steel. He rarely smiles and I
don't believe he ever laughed in his life."
Society, however, had made up its mind, and as the women had no
particular desire to make that terrible journey to Alexina Ballinger's
any oftener than was necessary, it was determined (in conclave) that
Mrs. Hunt McLane should have the honor of capturing and introducing
this difficult and desirable person.
Mr. McLane, who had met him at the Club, called on him formally and
invited him to dinner. Hunt McLane was the greatest lawyer and one of
the greatest gentlemen in San Francisco. Masters was too much a man of
the world not to appreciate the compliment; moreover, he had now been
in San Francisco for two months and his social instincts were stirring.
He accepted the invitation and many others.
People dined early in those simple days and the hours he spent in the
most natural and agreeable society he had ever entered did not
interfere with his work. Sometimes he talked, at others merely listened
with a pleasant sense of relaxation to the chatter of pretty women;
with whom he was quite willing to flirt as long as there was no hint of
the heavy vail. He thought it quite possible he should fall in love
with and marry one of these vivacious pretty girls; when his future was
assured in the city of his enthusiastic adoption.
He met Madeleine at all these gatherings, but it so happened that he
never sat beside her and he had no taste for kettledrums or balls. He
thought her very lovely to look at and wondered why so young and
handsome a woman with a notoriously faithful husband should have so sad
an expression. Possibly because it rather became her style of beauty.
He saw a good deal of Dr. Talbot at the Club however and asked them
both to one of the little dinners in his rooms with which he paid his
social debts. These dinners were very popular, for he was a connoisseur
in wines, the dinner was sent from a French restaurant, and he was
never more entertaining than at his own table. His guests were as
carefully assorted as his wines, and if he did not know intuitively
whose minds and tastes were most in harmony, or what lady did not
happen to be speaking to another at the moment, he had always the
delicate hints of Mrs. McLane to guide him. She was his social sponsor
and vastly proud of him.