Brott asked.
"I feel myself one," Mr. Sabin answered. "I have been away for a
few years, and I do not think that there is a city in the world
where social changes are so rapid. I should perhaps except the
cities of the country from which I have come. But then America
is a universe of itself."
For an instant Mr. Brott gave signs of the man underneath. The air
of polite interest had left his face. He glanced swiftly and keenly
at his companion. Mr. Sabin's expression was immutable. It was
he who scored, for he marked the change, whilst Mr. Brott could not
be sure whether he had noticed it or not.
"You have been living in America, then?"
"For several years--yes."
"It is a country," Mr. Brott said, "which I am particularly anxious
to visit. I see my chances, however, grow fewer and fewer as the
years go by."
"For one like yourself," Mr. Sabin said, "whose instincts and
sympathies are wholly with the democracy, a few months in America
would be very well spent."
"And you," Mr. Brott remarked, "how did you get on with the people?"
Mr. Sabin traced a pattern with his stick upon the marble floor.
"I lived in the country," he said, "I played golf and read and
rested."
"Were you anywhere near New York?" Mr. Brott asked.
"A few hours' journey only," Mr. Sabin answered.
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