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always groomed "up to the nines," as some of the most slangy of his acquaintances described the polish of his boots, his waxed moustache, his close-cropped hair, and his well-brushed coats. He was what would be termed a young man with a fair complexion, and accordingly on that account Mrs. Milbanke was inclined to think that Philip Forsyth had the best chance in the competition for Dolly, because in love, like does not like like, but its opposite. Sam was of medium height, inclined to be what is called stout, was broad of shoulder, his hands of a generous type, and he had a fat cheery laugh. He wore tight coats, a showy watch chain, and carried a big silver-mounted stick.
On the present occasion his dress clothes were in the height of fashion — silk facings, silk collar and white vest, with a single small gem in the way of a stud for his immaculate shirt front. His somewhat florid cheeks shone with health, his grey eyes sparkled with his host's wine. He had no peculiarities of manner, but was a type of a fairly bred young Englishman, in a big way of business, perfectly at home with himself except when he was near Dolly Norcott, with whom he was over head and ears in love; and without, as he feared, the remotest chance of ever winning even her esteem, he yet thought of the possibility of making a heap of money for her, whenever he entered upon a more than ordinary large hazard either as a bull or a bear. He had never dared to propose to Dolly, because she had more than once given him to understand that any familiarity of that kind would be fatal to their friendship; that she was not for him in any other capacity than one of friendship; that as a friend she liked him better than any other of her brother-in-law's guests, and she hoped he would not compel her to ask Walter not to invite him any more to Westbury Lodge. Although this had been said more or less jestingly, Sam knew that for the time being Dolly meant
