F. Scott Fitzgerald ....................................................................................................................................1

The Diamond as Big as the Ritz..............................................................................................................1

Winter Dreams .......................................................................................................................................27

The JellyBean......................................................................................................................................43

Bernice Bobs Her Hair ...........................................................................................................................57

The Camel's Back..................................................................................................................................76

Head and Shoulders...............................................................................................................................97

The Ice Palace ......................................................................................................................................118

May Day ...............................................................................................................................................137

Myra Meets His Family.......................................................................................................................179

The Offshore Pirate ..............................................................................................................................197

JOHN T. UNGER came from a family that had been well known in Hadesa small town on the Mississippi

John's father had held the amateur golf championship through many a heated contest; Mrs. Unger was known

"from hotbox to hotbed," as the local phrase went, for her political addresses; and young John T. Unger,

who had just turned sixteen, had danced all the latest dances from New York before he put on long trousers.

And now, for a certain time, he was to be away from home. That respect for a New England education which

is the bane of all provincial places, which drains them yearly of their most promising young men, had seized

upon his parents. Nothing would suit them but that he should go to St. Midas' School near Boston Hades

Now in Hadesas you know if you ever have been therethe names of the more fashionable preparatory

schools and colleges mean very little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that, though they

make a show of keeping up to date in dress and manners and literature, they depend to a great extent on

hearsay, and a function that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be hailed by a Chicago

John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with maternal fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen

suits and electric fans, and Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocketbook stuffed with money.

"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be sure boy, that we'll keep the home fires

"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued his father proudly, "and you can do nothing

So the old man and the young shook hands and John walked away with tears streaming from his eyes. Ten

minutes later he had passed outside the city limits, and he stopped to glance back for the last time. Over the

gates the oldfashioned Victorian motto seemed strangely attractive to him. His father had tried time and

time again to have it changed to something with a little more push and verve about it, such as "HadesYour

Opportunity," or else a plain "Welcome" sign set over a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights. The

So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his destination. And, as he turned away, the

St. Midas' School is half an hour from Boston in a RollsPierce motorcar. The actual distance will never be

known, for no one, except John T. Unger, had ever arrived there save in a RollsPierce and probably no one

ever will again. St. Midas' is the most expensive and the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the

John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all the boys were moneykings and John spent

his summers visiting at fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he visited, their fathers

struck him as being much of a piece, and in his boyish way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness.

When he told them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down there?" and John would

muster a faint smile and answer, "It certainly is." His response would have been heartier had they not all

made this jokeat best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you down there?" which he hated just as much.

In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome boy named Percy Washington had been put in

John's form. The newcomer was pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well dressed even for St. Midas', but

for some reason he kept aloof from the other boys. The only person with whom he was intimate was John T.

Unger, but even to John he was entirely uncommunicative concerning his home or his family. That he was

wealthy went without saying, but beyond a few such deductions John knew little of his friend, so it promised

rich confectionery for his curiosity when Percy invited him to spend the summer at his home "in the West."

It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the first time, rather communicative. One day

while they were eating lunch in the diningcar and discussing the imperfect characters of several of the boys

"Oh," said John, politely. He could think of no answer to make to this confidence. He considered "That's very

nice," but it sounded hollow and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since it would seem to

question Percy's statement. And such an astounding statement could scarcely be questioned.

"I was reading in the World Almanac," began John, "that there was one man in America with an income of

over five million a year and four men with incomes of over three million a year, and"

"Oh, they're nothing." Percy's mouth was a halfmoon of scorn. "Catchpenny capitalists, financial smallfry,

petty merchants and moneylenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd done it."

"Why haven't they put down his income tax? Because he doesn't pay any. At least he pays a little onebut

"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I

visited the SchnlitzerMurphys last Easter. Vivian SchnlitzerMurphy had rubies as big as hen's eggs, and

"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I wouldn't want any one at school to know about it,

but I've got quite a collection myself I used to collect them instead of stamps."

"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The SchnlitzerMurphys had diamonds as big as walnuts"

"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My

THE MONTANA sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic bruise from which dark arteries spread

themselves over a poisoned sky. An immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish, minute,

dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said, in the village of Fish, twelve somber and

inexplicable souls who sucked a lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which a mysterious

populatory force had begotten them. They had become a race apart, these twelve men of Fish, like some

species developed by an early whim of nature, which on second thought had abandoned them to struggle and

Out of the blueblack bruise in the distance crept a long line of moving lights upon the desolation of the land,

and the twelve men of Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing of the seven o'clock

train, the Transcontinental Express from Chicago. Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express,

through some inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and when this occurred a figure or so

would disembark, mount into a buggy that always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off toward the

bruised sunset. The observation of this pointless and preposterous phenomenon had become a sort of cult

among the men of Fish. To observe, that was all; there remained in them none of the vital quality of illusion

which would make them wonder or speculate, else a religion might have grown up around these mysterious

visitations. But the men of Fish were beyond all religionthe barest and most savage tenets of even

Christianity could gain no foothold on that barren rockso there was no altar, no priest, no sacrifice; only

each night at seven the silent concourse by the shanty depot, a congregation who lifted up a prayer of dim,

On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified any one, they might well have chosen as

their celestial protagonist, had ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or inhuman)

deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Washington and John T. Unger disembarked, hurried past

the spellbound, the agape, the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into a buggy which had

After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the silent negro who was driving the buggy

hailed an opaque body somewhere ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned upon them a

luminous disk which regarded them like a malignant eye out of the unfathomable night. As they came closer,

John saw that it was the taillight of an immense automobile, larger and more magnificent than any he had

ever seen. Its body was of gleaming metal richer than nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the

wheels were studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and yellowJohn did not dare to guess

Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pictures of royal processions in London, were

standing at attention beside the car and as the two young men dismounted from the buggy they were greeted

in some language which the guest could not understand, but which seemed to be an extreme form of the

"Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to the ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we

had to bring you this far in that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train or those

"Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its interior. John saw that the upholstery consisted of a

thousand minute and exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries, and set upon a

background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats in which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff

that resembled duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colors of the ends of ostrich feathers.

"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for a station wagon."

By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward the break between the two mountains.

"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to

If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was prepared to be astonished indeed. The simple

piety prevalent in Hades has the earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article of its creedhad

John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before them, his parents would have turned away in horror at the

They had now reached and were entering the break between the two mountains and almost immediately the

"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch," said Percy, trying to peer out of the

window. He spoke a few words into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a searchlight

"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in half an hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to

They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car was crossing a high rise, where they caught

a glimpse of a pale moon newly risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several figures took

shape out of the dark beside itthese were negroes also. Again the two young men were saluted in the same

dimly recognizable dialect; then the negroes set to work and four immense cables dangling from overhead

were attached with hooks to the hubs of the great jeweled wheels. At a resounding "Heyyah!" John felt the

car being lifted slowly from the ground up and upclear of the tallest rocks on both sidesthen higher,

until he could see a wavy, moonlit valley stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of rocks

that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rockand then suddenly there was no rock beside

It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knifeblade of stone, projecting perpendicularly

into the air. In a moment they were going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were landed upon

"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's only five miles from here, and our own

roadtapestry brickall the way. This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends, father says."

"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But you are now on the only five square miles of

"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The first time my grandfather corrupted a whole

department of the State survey; the second time he had the official maps of the United States tinkered

withthat held them for fifteen years. The last time was harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses

were in the strongest magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set of surveying instruments made

with a slight defection that would allow for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones

that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what looked like a village built up on its

banksso that they'd see it, and think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one thing

my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the world that could be used to find us out."

"Aeroplanes," he breathed. "We've got half a dozen antiaircraft guns and we've arranged it so farbut

there've been a few deaths and a great many prisoners. Not that we mind that, you know, father and I, but it

upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the chance that some time we won't be able to arrange it."

Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green moon's heaven, were passing the green moon

like precious Eastern stuffs paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to John that it was day,

and that he was looking at some lads sailing above him in the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine

circulars, with their messages of hope for despairing, rockbound hamlets. It seemed to him that he could see

them look down out of the clouds and stareand stare at whatever there was to stare at in this place whither

he was boundWhat then? Were they induced to land by some insidious device there to be immured far

from patent medicines and from tracts until the judgment dayor, should they fail to fall into the trap, did a

quick puff of smoke and the sharp round of a splitting shell bring them drooping to earthand "upset"

Percy's mother and sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a hollow laugh issued silently from his

parted lips. What desperate transaction lay hidden here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre Croesus? What

The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and outside the Montana night was bright as day. The tapestry

brick of the road was smooth to the tread of the great tires as they rounded a still, moonlit lake; they passed

into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent and cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn

and John's exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn "We're home."

Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite ch_teau rose from the borders of the lake, climbed in marble

radiance half the height of an adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in translucent

feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the

sloping parapets, the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs and hectagons and

triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of the intersecting planes of starshine and blue shade, all

trembled on John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the tallest, the blackest at its base, an

arrangement of exterior lights at the top made a sort of floating fairylandand as John gazed up in warm

enchantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in a rococo harmony that was like nothing he

had ever heard before. Then in a moment the car stopped before wide, high marble steps around which the

night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At the top of the steps two great doors swung silently open and

amber light flooded out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an exquisite lady with black, highpiled

Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many colors, of quick sensory impressions, of music

soft as a voice in love, and of the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and faces. There was a

whitehaired man who stood drinking a manyhued cordial from a crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There

was a girl with a flowery face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires in her hair. There was a room

where the solid, soft gold of the walls yielded to the pressure of his hand, and a room that was like a platonic

conception of the ultimate prismceiling, floor, and all, it was lined with an unbroken mass of diamonds,

diamonds of every size and shape, until, lit with tall violet lamps in the corners, it dazzled the eyes with a

Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes the floor under their feet would flame in

brilliant patterns from lighting below, patterns of barbaric clashing colors, of pastel delicacy, of sheer

whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes

beneath layers of thick crystal he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and growths

of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of every texture and color or along corridors of

palest ivory, unbroken as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs extinct before the age

Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinnerwhere each plate was of two almost

imperceptible layers of solid diamond between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald design, a

shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unobtrusive, drifted down through far corridorshis

chair, feathered and curved insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him as he drank his first

glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a question that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that

clasped his body added to the illusion of sleepjewels, fabrics, wines, and metals blurred before his eyes

"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough for me down there."

He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement, without resistance, he seemed to float off and

When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in a great quiet room with ebony walls and a

dull illumination that was too faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was standing over him.

"You fell asleep at dinner," Percy was saying. "I nearly did, tooit was such a treat to be comfortable again

after this year of school. Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping."

"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percybefore you go, I want to apologize."

"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as the RitzCarlton Hotel."

"The mountain the ch_teau rests on. It's not very big, for a mountain. But except about fifty feet of sod and

gravel on top it's solid diamond.One diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you listening? Say"

MORNING. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at the same moment become dense with

sunlight. The ebony panels of one wall had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half open to the

"Goodmorning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't get upI'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton

John lay quietly as his pajamas were removedhe was amused and delighted; he expected to be lifted like a

child by this black Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened; instead he felt the bed

tilt up slowly on its sidehe began to roll, startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached

the wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a fleecy incline he plumped gently into

He looked about him. The runway or rollway on which he had arrived had folded gently back into place. He

had been projected into another chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head just above the level of

the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the room and the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue

aquarium, and gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he could see fish swimming among amber

lights and even gliding without curiosity past his outstretched toes, which were separated from them only by

the thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight came down through seagreen glass.

I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this morning sirand perhaps cold salt water to

"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of ordering this bath according to his own

The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, apparently from overhead, but really, so John

discovered after a moment, from a fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale rose color and

jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature walrus heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a

dozen little paddlewheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a radiant rainbow of pink foam

which enveloped him softly with its delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there

"Shall I turn on the movingpicture machine, sir?" suggested the negro deferentially. "There's a good

onereel comedy in this machine today, or can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it."

"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying his at too much to desire any distraction.

But distraction came. In a moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from just outside, flutes

ripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool and green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo,

After a cold saltwater bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped out and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch

covered with the same material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in a voluptuous chair

"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sittingroom," said the negro, when these operations were finished. "My name

John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his livingroom, where he found breakfast waiting for him and

THIS IS A STORY of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for John during breakfast.

The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian, a direct descendant of George Washington,

and Lord Baltimore. At the close of the Civil War he was a twentyfiveyearold Colonel with a playedout

FitzNorman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young Colonel's name, decided to present the Virginia

estate to his younger brother and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful blacks, who, of course,

worshipped him, and bought twentyfive tickets to the West, where he intended to take out land in their

When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things were going very poorly indeed, he stumbled

on his great discovery. He had lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without food he began to

grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was forced to pursue a squirrel, and in the course of the pursuit

he noticed that it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it vanished into its holefor

Providence did not intend that this squirrel should alleviate his hungerit dropped its burden. Sitting down

to consider the situation FitzNorman's eye was caught by a gleam in the grass beside him. In ten seconds he

had completely lost his appetite and gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel, which had refused

with annoying persistence to become food, had made him a present of a large and perfect diamond.

Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later all the males among his darkies were back by

the squirrel hole digging furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had discovered a rhinestone

mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever seen even a small diamond before, they believed him, without

question. When the magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him, he found himself in a quandary. The

mountain was a diamondit was literally nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle bags full of

glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul. There he managed to dispose of half a dozen small

stoneswhen he tried a larger one a storekeeper fainted and FitzNorman was arrested as a public disturber.

He escaped from jail and caught the train for New York, where he sold a few mediumsized diamonds and

received in exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did not dare to produce any

exceptional gemsin fact, he left New York just in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in

jewelry circles, not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appearance in the city from mysterious

sources. Wild rumors became current that a diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on the Jersey

coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excursion trains, packed with men carrying picks and

shovels, began to leave New York hourly, bound for various neighboring El Dorados. But by that time young

By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the mountain was approximately equal in

quantity to all the rest of the diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any regular

computation, however, for it was one solid diamondand if it were offered for sale not only would the

bottom fall out of the market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual arithmetical

progression, there would not be enough gold in the world to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do

It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest man that ever livedand yet was he worth

anything at all? If his secret should transpire there was no telling to what measures the Government might

resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well as in jewels. They might take over the claim immediately

There was no alternativehe must market his mountain in secret. He sent South for his younger brother and

put him in charge of his colored followingdarkies who had never realized that slavery was abolished. To

make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that he had composed, which announced that General Forrest

had reorganized the shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in one pitched battle. The negroes

believed him implicitly. They passed a vote declaring it a good thing and held revival services immediately.

FitzNorman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred thousand dollars and two trunks filled with

rough diamonds of all sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk and six months after his departure from

Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took obscure lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller,

announcing that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St. Petersburg for two weeks, in constant

danger of being murdered, living from lodging to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more than three or

On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he was allowed to leave for India. Before he

left, however, the Court Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum of fifteen million

He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over two years. He had visited the capitals of

twentytwo countries and talked with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan, and a sultan.

At that time FitzNorman estimated his own wealth at one billion dollars. One fact worked consistently

against the disclosure of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the public eye for a week

before being invested with a history of enough fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it

From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of FitzNorman Washington was a long epic in gold. There

were side issues, of coursehe evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he had a single son,

and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate

habit of drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times endangered their safety. But very few

Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few million dollars of his outside wealth bought

up rare minerals in bulk, which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world, marked as

bric_brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington, followed this policy on an even more tensive scale.

The minerals were converted into the rarest of all elementsradiumso that the equivalent of a billion

When FitzNorman had been dead three years his son, Braddock, decided that the business had gone far

enough. The amount of wealth that he and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond all exact

computation. He kept a notebook in cipher in which he set down the approximate quantity of radium in each

of the thousand banks he patronized, and recorded the alias under which it was held. Then he did a very

He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would support all the Washingtons yet to be born in

unparalleled luxury for generations. His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in the possible

panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced with all the propertyholders in the world to utter

This was the family among whom John T. Unger was staying. This was the story he heard in his

AFTER BREAKFAST, John found his way out the great marble entrance and looked curiously at the scene

before him. The whole valley, from the diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still gave

off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here

and there clusters of elms made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the tough masses of pine

forest that held the hills in a grip of darkblue green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file

patter out from one clump about a half mile away and disappear with awkward gayety into the blackribbed

halflight of another. John would not have been surprised to see a goatfoot piping his way among the trees

or to catch a glimpse of pink nymphskin and flying yellow hair between the greenest of the green leaves.

In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing faintly the sleep of two silky Russian

wolfhounds at the bottom, and set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no

He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can

never live in the present, but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly imagined

futureflowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only prefigurations and prophecies of that incomparable,

John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the air with heavy scent, and struck off

across a park toward a patch of moss under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted to see

whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name as an adjective. Then he saw a girl coming

She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her knees, and a wreath of mignonettes clasped

with blue slices of sapphire bound up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew before them as she came.

She was much more than that to John already. He advanced toward her, scarcely moving as he drew near lest

"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added, "Oh, but you've missed a great deal!" . . .

"You met my sister, Jasmine, last night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her soft voice, and her

"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes, "and I'm not so slow myself""How do

you do?" said his voice. "I hope you're better this morning.""You darling," added his eyes tremulously.

John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her suggestion they sat down together upon the

He was critical about women. A single defecta thick ankle, a hoarse voice, a glass eyewas enough to

make him utterly indifferent. And here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who seemed to him the

Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of no pleasant comment to make upon it, for she did

"I'm going East to school this fall," she said. "D'you think I'll like it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's.

It's very strict, but you see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in our New York

"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity."None of us has ever been punished. Father said we

never should be. Once when my sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him downstairs and he just got up

"Mother waswell, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when she heard that you were fromfrom where

you are from, you know. She said that when she was a young girlbut then, you see, she's a Spaniard and

"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the fact that he was somewhat hurt by this

"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next summer Jasmine is going to Newport. She's

"Do you know, " began John hesitantly, "you're much more sophisticated than I thought you were when I first

"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think of being. I think that sophisticated young

people are terriblycommon, don't you? I'm not at all, really. If you say I am, I'm going to cry."

"Because I wouldn't mind if I were," she persisted. "but I'm not. I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke,

or drink, or read anything except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry. I dress

very simplyin fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think sophisticated is the last thing you can say about me. I

Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a stillborn tear dripped from the corner of one blue eye.

"I like you," she whispered, intimately. "Are you going to spend all your time with Percy while you're here,

or will you be nice to me. Just thinkI'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in love with me in all

my life. I've never been allowed even to see boys aloneexcept Percy. I came all the way out here into this

Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught at dancing school in Hades.

"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with mother at eleven. You haven't asked me to

"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that sort of thingin Hades."

JOHN STOOD facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight. The elder man was about forty with a

proud, vacuous face, intelligent eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horsesthe best

horses. He carried a plain walkingstick of gray birch with a single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were

"The slaves' quarters are there." His walkingstick indicated a cloister of marble on their left that ran in

graceful Gothic along the side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from the business of

life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one

"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr.

"The opinions of Mr. SchnlitzerMurphy are of little importance, I should imagine," interrupted Braddock

Washington, coldly. "My slaves did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe every day, and

they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sulphuric acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite

another reason. Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for certain racesexcept as a

John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement. Braddock Washington made him

"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North with him. There are about two

hundred and fifty now. You notice that they've lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect

has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them up to speak Englishmy secretary

"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you

"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darklyand then added after a moment, "We've had

"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of course there's a good chance that we may have

got him. Perhaps he fell somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's always the

probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men

"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent that they'd each killed a man answering to that description, but

He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the circumference of a merrygoround and

covered by a strong iron grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane down

through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor

"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show you a quick disappearance scene."

It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell from the coarse optimism and rugged

vitality of the remarks and voices that they proceeded from middleclass Americans of the more spirited

type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the grass, and the scene below sprang

"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to discover El Dorado," he remarked.

Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like the interior of a bowl. The sides were

steep and apparently of polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two dozen men clad in

the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their upturned faces, lit with wrath with malice, with despair,

with cynical humor, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the exception of a few who had pined

A chorus of execration in which all joined except a few too dispirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air,

but Braddock Washington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had died away he spoke

"I've told you the situation. I don't want you here. I wish to heaven I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got

you here, and any time that you can think of a way out which protects me and my interests I'll be glad to

consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts to digging tunnelsyes, I know about the new one you've

startedyou won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out, with all your howling for the

loved ones at home. If you were the type who worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never have

A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to call his captor's attention to what he was

"Let me ask you a few questions!" he cried. "You pretend to be a fairminded man."

"How absurd. How could a man of my position be fairminded toward you? You might as well speak of a

At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen steaks fell, but the tall man continued:

"All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a humanitarian and you're not fairminded,

but you're humanat least you say you areand you ought to be able to put yourself in our place for long

"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where selfpreservation is involved. You've been soldiers; you

"Well, then, how stupid." "There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think of an alternative.

I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives,

sweethearts, children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge your place down there and

feed and clothe you the rest of your lives. If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have

all of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside of my preserves. But that's as far as my

"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington, with an expression of scorn. "I did take out

A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats and a pandemonium of joy ensued. The

prisoners clogdanced and cheered and yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden uprush of animal

spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl as far as they could, and slid back to the bottom upon the

natural cushions of their bodies. The tall man started a song in which they all joined

Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was over. "You see," he remarked, when he

could gain a modicum of attention. "I bear you no illwill. I like to see you enjoying yourselves. That's why I

didn't tell you the whole story at once. The manwhat was his name? Critchtichiello? was shot by some

Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of rejoicing subsided immediately.

"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried to run away. Do you expect me to take

"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot of things better than Italian."

Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and pushed the button in the grass so that the picture

below went out instantly, and there remained only that great dark mouth covered dismally with the black

"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away without givin' us your blessing?"

But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already strolling on toward the ninth hole of the golf

course, as though the pit and its contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron had

JULY UNDER the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket nights and of warm, glowing days.

John and Kismine were in love. He did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the legend Pro

deo et patria et St. Midas) which he had given her rested on a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did.

And she for her part was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day from her simple coiffure

Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was quiet, they spent an hour there together. He

held her hand and she gave him such a look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent toward himthen

Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an hour it seemed to make little difference.

The afternoon drifted away. That night when a last breath of music drifted down from the highest tower, they

each lay awake, happily dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had decided to be married as

EVERY DAY Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting or fishing in the deep forests or played

golf around the somnolent coursegames which John diplomatically allowed his host to winor swam in

the mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Washington a somewhat exacting personalityutterly

uninterested in any ideas or opinions except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and reserved at all times.

She was apparently indifferent to her two daughters, and entirely absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she

Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearanceexcept that she was somewhat bowlegged,

and terminated in large hands and feetbut was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her favorite books had to

do with poor girls who kept house for widowed fathers. John learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never

recovered from the shock and disappointment caused her by the termination of the World War, just as she

was about to start for Europe as a canteen expert. She had even pined away for a time, and Braddock

Washington had taken steps to promote a new war in the Balkansbut she had seen a photograph of some

wounded Serbian soldiers and lost interest in the whole proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed to have

inherited the arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence from their father. A chaste and consistent

John was enchanted by the wonders of the ch_teau and the valley. Braddock Washington, so Percy told him,

had caused to be kidnapped a landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a French

decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put his entire force of negroes at their disposal,

guaranteed to supply them with any materials that the world could offer, and left them to work out some ideas

of their own. But one by one they had shown their uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun

bewailing his separation from the boulevards in springhe made some vague remarks about spices, apes,

and ivories, but said nothing that was of any practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to make

the whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effectsa state of things that the Washingtons would soon

have grown tired of. And as for the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought only in terms of

But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done with themthey all went mad early one

morning after spending the night in a single room trying to agree upon the location of a fountain, and were

"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful reception rooms and halls, and approaches

"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a movingpicture fella. He was the only man we

found who was used to playing with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his napkin in his

As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon go back to school. He and Kismine had

"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but of course I could never get father's

permission to marry you at all. Next to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be married in

America at presentthey always have to send out bulletins to the press saying that they're going to be

married in remnants, when what they mean is just a peck of old secondhand pearls and some used lace worn

"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the SchnlitzerMurphys, the eldest daughter,

Gwendolyn, married a man whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what a tough

struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerkand then she ended up by saying that 'Thank

"It's absurd," commented Kismine. "Think of the millions and millions of people in the world, laborers and

One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's changed the face of the entire situation, and threw

They were in their favorite grove, and between kisses John was indulging in some romantic forebodings

"You're too wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other girls. I should marry the

daughter of some welltodo wholesale hardware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her

"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," remarked Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been

"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered. "Let's talk about something pleasanter."

"Something pleasanter!" he demanded. "What's unpleasant about that? Weren't they nice girls?"

"Yesththat's thethe whole ttrouble. I grew ququite attached to some of them. So did Jasmine, but

"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no chancesand Jasmine kept writing them to come,

Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there openmouthed, feeling the nerves of his body

"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming suddenly and drying her dark blue eyes.

"In August usuallyor early in September. It's only natural for us to get all the pleasure out of them that we

"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't very well imprison them like those aviators,

where they'd be a continual reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier for Jasmine and me

because father had it done sooner than we expected. In that way we avoided any farewell scene"

"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were asleepand their families were always told

"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did. And they always had a very good time. She'd

give them the nicest presents toward the last. I shall probably have visitors tooI'll harden up to it. We can't

let such an inevitable thing as death stand in the way of enjoying life while we have it. Think how lonesome

it'd be out here if we never had any one. Why, father and mother have sacrificed some of their best friends

"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make love to you and pretending to return it,

and talking about marriage, all the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here alive"

"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first. You were here. I couldn't help that, and I

thought your last days might as well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with you, andand I'm

honestly sorry you're going togoing to be put awaythough I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss

"Much rather. Besides, I've always heard that a girl can have more fun with a man whom she knows she can

never marry. Oh, why did I tell you? I've probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we were really

enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would make things sort of depressing for you."

"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've heard about enough of this. If you haven't any

more pride and decency than to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much better than a corpse, I

"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a corpse! I won't have you saying that I kissed a

Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps

were coming along the path in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were parted displaying

Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set in his goodlooking vacuous face were peering in at them.

"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly. "Kismine, you ought to beto be reading or

playing golf with your sister. Go read! Go play golf! Don't let me find you here when I come back!"

"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've spoiled it all. We can never meet any

more. He won't let me meet you. He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love."

"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his mind at rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool

yourself that I'm going to stay around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains, if I have to gnaw

They had both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came close and put her arm through his.

"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father now and talk it over with him."

"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affection, "we'll go together."

His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She was hisshe would go with him to share his

dangers. He put his arms about her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him; she had saved him, in

Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the ch_teau. They decided that since Braddock

Washington had seen them together they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips were

unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great spoonful of peacock soup into his left lung. He had

to be carried into the turquoise and sable cardroom and pounded on the back by one of the underbutlers,

LONG AFTER midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, and he sat suddenly upright, staring into the veils

of somnolence that draped the room. Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open windows, he

had heard a faint faraway sound that died upon a bed of wind before identifying itself on his memory,

clouded with uneasy dreams. But the sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was just outside the

roomthe click of a turned knob, a footstep, a whisper, he could not tell; a hard lump gathered in the pit of

his stomach, and his whole body ached in the moment that he strained agonizingly to hear. Then one of the

veils seemed to dissolve, and he saw a vague figure standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned and

blocked in upon the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the drapery as to seem distorted, like a reflection

With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the button by his bedside, and the next moment

he was sitting in the green sunken bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by the shock of the cold

He sprang out, and, his wet pajamas scattering a heavy trickle of water behind him, ran for the aquamarine

door which he knew led out onto the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noiselessly. A single

crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a

poignant beauty. For a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendor massed about him, seeming to

envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing.

Then simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sittingroom swung open, precipitating three

naked negroes into the halland, as John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another door slid back

in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John saw Braddock Washington standing in the lighted lift,

wearing a fur coat and a pair of riding boots which reached to his knees and displayed, above, the glow of his

On the instant the three negroesJohn had never seen any of them before, and it flashed through his mind

that they must be the professional executionerspaused in their movement toward John, and turned

Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage, the oblong of light was blotted out as the lift

door slid shut, and John was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against an ivory stair.

It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, something which, for the moment at least, had

postponed his own petty disaster. What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the aviators forced aside

the iron bars of the grating? Or had the men of Fish stumbled blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak,

joyless eyes upon the gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint whir of air as the lift whizzed up

again, and then, a moment later, as it descended. It was probable that Percy was hurrying to his father's

assistance, and it occurred to John that this was his opportunity to join Kismine and plan an immediate

escape. He waited until the lift had been silent for several minutes; shivering a little with the night cool that

whipped in through his wet pajamas, he returned to his room and dressed himself quickly. Then he mounted a

long flight of stairs and turned down the corridor carpeted with Russian sable which led to Kismine's suite.

The door of her sittingroom was open and the lamps were lighted. Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near

the window of the room in a listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly she turned toward him.

"There're at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead against the moon. The guard back by the cliff

fired his rifle and that's what roused father. We're going to open on them right away."

Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks tumbled in through the open window.

Kismine uttered a little cry, took a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and ran to one of

the electric lights. In an instant the entire ch_teau was in darknessshe had blown out the fuse.

"Come on!" she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden, and watch it from there!"

Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their way out the door. It was only a step to the

tower lift, and as she pressed the button that shot them upward he put his arms around her in the darkness and

kissed her mouth. Romance had come to John Unger at last. A minute later they had stepped out upon the

starwhite platform. Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and out of the patches of cloud that eddied

below it, floated a dozen darkwinged bodies in a constant circling course. From here and there in the valley

flashes of fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp detonations. Kismine clapped her hands with pleasure,

which, a moment later, turned to dismay as the aeroplanes at some prearranged signal, began to release their

bombs and the whole of the valley became a panorama of deep reverberate sound and lurid light.

Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon the points where the antiaircraft guns were

situated, and one of them was almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering in a park of

"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this attack came on the eve of my murder. If I

hadn't heard that guard shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead"

"I can't hear you!" cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her. "You'll have to talk louder!"

"I simply said, " shouted John, "that we'd better get out before they begin to shell the ch_teau!"

Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder, a geyser of flame shot up from under the

colonnades, and great fragments of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the lake.

"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine, "at prewar prices. So few Americans have

John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the aeroplanes was becoming more precise

minute by minute, and only two of the antiaircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious that the garrison,

"Come on!" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to go. Do you realize that those aviators will kill

"We'll have to wake Jasmine!" she said, as they hurried toward the lift. Then she added in a sort of childish

delight: "We'll be poor, won't we? Like people in books. And I'll be an orphan and utterly free. Free and

"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People have found that out. And I should choose to

be free as preferable of the two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your jewel box into

Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and they descended to the main floor of the

ch_teau. Passing for the last time through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a moment out

on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and the flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on

the other side of the lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and the attackers seemed

timorous about descending lower, but sent their thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance

John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned sharply to the left, and began to ascend a

narrow path that wound like a garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily wooded spot

halfway up where they could lie concealed and yet be able to observe the wild night in the valleyfinally

to make an escape, when it should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a rocky gully.

IT WAS THREE O'CLOCK when they attained their destination. The obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell

off to sleep immediately, leaning against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his arm around

her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying battle among the ruins of a vista that had been a

garden spot that morning. Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out a clanging sound and

went out of action in a swift tongue of red smoke. Though the moon was down, they saw that the flying

bodies were circling closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain that the beleaguered possessed no

further resources, they would land and the dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over.

With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers of the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes

of some monster crouching in the grass. The ch_teau stood dark and silent, beautiful without light as it had

been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding

complaint. Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound asleep.

It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along the path they had lately followed, and he

waited in breathless silence until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantagepoint he

occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not of human origin, and the dew was cold; he knew

that the dawn would break soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up the mountain and

were inaudible. Then he followed. About halfway to the steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle

of rock spread itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this point he slowed down his pace,

warned by an animal sense that there was life just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his head

Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted against the gray sky without sound or sign

of life. As the dawn came up out of the east, lending a cold green color to the earth, it brought the solitary

While John watched, his host remained for a few moments absorbed in some inscrutable contemplation; then

he signalled to the two negroes who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay between them. As they

struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the sun struck through the innumerable prisms of an immense and

exquisitely chiselled diamondand a white radiance was kindled that glowed upon the air like a fragment of

the morning star. The bearers staggered beneath its weight for a momentthen their rippling muscles caught

and hardened under the wet shine of the skins and the three figures were again motionless in their defiant

After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his arms in a gesture of attention, as one who

would call a great crowd to hearbut there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the mountain and the sky,

broken by faint bird voices down among the trees. The figure on the saddle of rock began to speak

"You out there" he cried in a trembling voice. "You there!" He paused, his arms still uplifted, his

head held attentively as though he were expecting an answer. John strained his eyes to see whether there

might be men coming down the mountain, but the mountain was bare of human life. There was only sky and

a mocking flute of wind along the treetops. Could Washington be praying? For a moment John wondered.

Then the illusion passedthere was something in the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer.

The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn supplication. If anything, there was in it a

Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing one into the other. . . . John listened breathlessly,

catching a phrase here and there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off againnow strong and

argumentative, now colored with a slow, puzzled impatience. Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the

single listener, and as realization crept over him a spray of quick blood rushed through his arteries. Braddock

That was itthere was no doubt. The diamond in the arms of his slaves was some advance sample, a

That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through his sentences. Prometheus Enriched was

calling to witness forgotten sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of Christ. For a

while his discourse took the form of reminding God of this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept

from mengreat churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of myrrh and gold, of human lives

and beautiful women and captive armies, of children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep and

goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal,

buying a meed's worth of alleviation from the Divine wrathand now he, Braddock Washington, Emperor

of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold, arbiter of splendor and luxury, would offer up a treasure such

as princes before him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance, but in pride.

He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications, the greatest diamond in the world. This

diamond would be cut with many more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and yet the whole

diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a stone no bigger than a fly. Many men would work upon it

for many years. It would be set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully carved and equipped with gates

of opal and crusted sapphire. In the middle would be hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of

iridescent, decomposing, everchanging radium which would burn out the eyes of any worshipper who lifted

up his head from prayerand on this altar there would be slain for the amusement of the Divine Benefactor

any victim He should choose, even though it should be the greatest and most powerful man alive.

In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would be absurdly easyonly that matters should

be as they were yesterday at this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple! Let but the heavens

open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanesand then close again. Let him have his slaves once more,

He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God had His price, of course. God was made in

man's image, so it had been said: He must have His price. And the price would be rareno cathedral whose

building consumed many years, no pyramid constructed by ten thousand workmen, would be like this

He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up to specifications and there was nothing

vulgar in his assertion that it would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could take it or leave it.

As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became short and uncertain, and his body seemed

tense, seemed strained to catch the slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around him. His hair had

turned gradually white as he talked, and now he lifted his head high to the heavens like a prophet of

Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a curious phenomenon took place somewhere

around him. It was as though the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been a sudden murmur

in a gust of wind, a sound of faraway trumpets, a sighing like the rustle of a great silken robefor a time

the whole of nature round about partook of this darkness; the birds' song ceased; the trees were still, and far

That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley. The dawn and the day resumed their place in

a time, and the risen sun sent hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before it. The leaves laughed

in the sun, and their laughter shook the trees until each bough was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had

For another moment John watched the triumph of the day. Then, turning he saw a flutter of brown down by

the lake, then another flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from the clouds. The

John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to the clump of trees, where the two girls

were awake and waiting for him. Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling, a question on

her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was no time for words. They must get off the mountain

without losing a moment. He seized a hand of each and in silence they threaded the treetrunks, washed with

light now and with the rising mist. Behind them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of

When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land and entered a narrow path that led over the

next rise of ground. At the highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes rested upon the

mountainside they had just leftoppressed by some dark sense of tragic impendency.

Clear against the sky a broken, whitehaired man was slowly descending the steep slope, followed by two

gigantic and emotionless negroes, who carried a burden between them which still flashed and glittered in the

sun. Halfway down two other figures joined themJohn could see that they were Mrs. Washington and her

son, upon whose arm she leaned. The aviators had clambered from their machines to the sweeping lawn in

front of the ch_teau, and with rifles in hand were starting up the diamond mountain in skirmishing formation.

But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was engrossing all the watchers' attention had

stopped upon a ledge of rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a trapdoor in the side

of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, the whitehaired man first, then his wife and son, finally the

two negroes, the glittering tips of whose jeweled headdresses caught the sun for a moment before the

Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before their eyes the whole surface of the

mountain had changed suddenly to a dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket of turf as

light shows through a human hand. For a moment the intolerable glow continued, and then like an

extinguished filament it disappeared, revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose slowly, carrying

off with it what remained of vegetation and of human flesh. Of the aviators there was left neither blood, nor

Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the ch_teau literally threw itself into the air, bursting into

flaming fragments as it rose, and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay projecting half into

the water of the lake. There was no firewhat smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and

for a few minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great featureless pile that had once been

the house of jewels. There was no more sound and the three people were alone in the valley.

AT SUNSET John and his two companions reached the high cliff which had marked the boundaries of the

Washingtons' dominion, and looking back found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They sat down to

"There!" she said, as she spread the tablecloth and put the sandwiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look

"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what jewels you brought along. If you made a

Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two handfuls of glittering stones before him.

"Not so bad," cried John, enthusiastically. "They aren't very big, but Hello!" His expression changed as he

held one of them up to the declining sun. "Why, these aren't diamonds! There's something the matter!"

"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer. They belonged on the dress of a girl who

visited Jasmine. I got her to give them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything but precious

"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds."

"Very well," said John gloomily. "We'll have to live in Hades. And you will grow old telling incredulous

women that you got the wrong drawer. Unfortunately your father's bankbooks were consumed with him."

"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable as not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they

"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and

"Your father is dead," he replied somberly. "Why should he go to Hades? You have it confused with another

After supper they folded up the tablecloth and spread their blankets for the night.

"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars. "How strange it seems to be here with one

"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before. I always thought of them as great big

diamonds that belonged to some one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all a dream, all

"It was a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness."

"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or

so, you and me. That's a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only diamonds in the whole

world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual

nothing of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the night's full of chill and you'll get

pneumonia. His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours."

SOME OF THE CADDIES were poor as sin and lived in oneroom houses with a neurasthenic cow in the

front yard, but Dexter Green's father owned the second best grocerystore in Black Bearthe best one was

"The Hub," patronized by the wealthy people from Sherry Islandand Dexter caddied only for

In the fall when the days became crisp and gray, and the long Minnesota winter shut down like the white lid

of a box, Dexter's skis moved over the snow that hid the fairways of the golf course. At these times the

country gave him a feeling of profound melancholyit offended him that the links should lie in enforced

fallowness, haunted by ragged sparrows for the long season. It was dreary, too, that on the tees where the gay

colors fluttered in summer there were now only the desolate sandboxes kneedeep in crusted ice. When he

crossed the hills the wind blew cold as misery, and if the sun was out he tramped with his eyes squinted up

In April the winter ceased abruptly. The snow ran down into Black Bear Lake scarcely tarrying for the early

golfers to brave the season with red and black balls. Without elation, without an interval of moist glory, the

Dexter knew that there was something dismal about this Northern spring, just as he knew there was

something gorgeous about the fall. Fall made him clinch his hands and tremble and repeat idiotic sentences to

himself, and make brisk abrupt gestures of command to imaginary audiences and armies. October filled him

with hope which November raised to a sort of ecstatic triumph, and in this mood the fleeting brilliant

impressions of the summer at Sherry Island were ready grist to his mill. He became a golf champion and

defeated Mr. T. A. Hedrick in a marvellous match played a hundred times over the fairways of his

imagination, a match each detail of which he changed about untiringlysometimes he won with almost

laughable ease, sometimes he came up magnificently from behind. Again, stepping from a PierceArrow

automobile, like Mr. Mortimer Jones, he strolled frigidly into the lounge of the Sherry Island Golf Club or

perhaps, surrounded by an admiring crowd, he gave an exhibition of fancy diving from the springboard of

the club raft. . . . Among those who watched him in openmouthed wonder was Mr. Mortimer Jones.

And one day it came to pass that Mr. Joneshimself and not his ghost came up to Dexter with tears in his

eyes and said that Dexter was thebest caddy in the club, and wouldn't he decide not to quit if Mr. Jones

made it worth his while, because every other caddy in the club lost one ball a hole for him regularly

"No, sir," said Dexter decisively, "I don't want to caddy any more." Then, after a pause: "I'm too old."

"You're not more than fourteen. Why the devil did you decide just this morning that you wanted to quit? You

Dexter handed in his "A Class" badge, collected what money was due him from the caddy master, and

"The bestcaddy I ever saw," shouted Mr. Mortimer Jones over a drink that afternoon. "Never lost a ball!

The little girl who had done this was elevenbeautifully ugly as little girls are apt to be who are destined

after a few years to be inexpressibly lovely and bring no end of misery to a great number of men. The spark,

however, was perceptible. There was a general ungodliness in the way her lips twisted ,down at the corners

when she smiled, and in theHeaven help us!in the almost passionate quality of her eyes. Vitality is born

early in such women. It was utterly in evidence now, shining through her thin frame in a sort of glow.

She had come eagerly out on to the course at nine o'clock with a white linen nurse and five small new

golfclubs in a white canvas bag which the nurse was carrying. When Dexter first saw her she was standing

by the caddy house, rather ill at ease and trying to conceal the fact by engaging her nurse in an obviously

unnatural conversation graced by startling and irrelevant grimaces from herself.

"Well, it's certainly a nice day, Hilda," Dexter heard her say. She drew down the corners of her mouth,

smiled, and glanced furtively around, her eyes in transit falling for an instant on Dexter.

"I don't know what we're supposed to do now," said the nurse, looking nowhere in particular.

Dexter stood perfectly still, his mouth slightly ajar. He knew that if he moved forward a step his stare would

be in her line of visionif he moved backward he would lose his full view of her face. For a moment he had

not realized how young she was. Now he remembered having seen her several times the year before in

Suddenly, involuntarily, he laughed, a short abrupt laugh then, startled by himself, he turned and began to

Beyond question he was addressed. Not only that, but he was treated to that absurd smile, that preposterous

"Oh." For a moment this baffled her. She stood alternately on her right and left foot.

"We'd like to get a caddy," said the nurse. "Mrs. Mortimer Jones sent us out to play golf, and we don't know

Here she was stopped by an ominous glance from Miss Jones, followed immediately by the smile.

"There aren't any caddies here except me," said Dexter to the nurse, "and I got to stay here in charge until the

Miss Jones and her retinue now withdrew, and at a proper distance from Dexter became involved in a heated

conversation, which was concluded by Miss Jones taking one of the clubs and hitting it on the ground with

violence. For further emphasis she raised it again and was about to bring it down smartly upon the nurse's

Another argument ensued. Realizing that the elements of the comedy were implied in the scene, Dexter

several times began to laugh, but each time restrained the laugh before it reached audibility. He could not

resist the monstrous conviction that the little girl was justified in beating the nurse.

The situation was resolved by the fortuitous appearance of the caddymaster, who was appealed to

"Well, he's here now." Miss Jones smiled cheerfully at the caddymaster. Then she dropped her bag and set

"Well?" The caddymaster turned to Dexter. "What you standing there like a dummy for? Go pick up the

The enormity of his decision frightened him. He was a favorite caddy, and the thirty dollars a month he

earned through the summer were not to be made elsewhere around the lake. But he had received a strong

It is not so simple as that, either. As so frequently would be the case in the future, Dexter was unconsciously

NOW, OF COURSE, the quality and the seasonability of these winter dreams varied, but the stuff of them

remained. They persuaded Dexter several years later to pass up a business course at the State universityhis

father, prospering now, would have paid his wayfor the precarious advantage of attending an older and

more famous university in the East, where he was bothered by his scanty funds. But do not get the

impression, because his winter dreams happened to be concerned at first with musings on the rich, that there

was anything merely snobbish in the boy. He wanted not association with glittering things and glittering

peoplehe wanted the glittering things themselves. Often he reached out for the best without knowing why

he wanted itand sometimes he ran up against the mysterious denials and prohibitions in which life

indulges. It is with one of those denials and not with his career as a whole that this story deals.

He made money. It was rather amazing. After college he went to the city from which Black Bear Lake draws

its wealthy patrons. When he was only twentythree and had been there not quite two years, there were

already people who liked to say: "Now there's a boy" All about him rich men's sons were peddling bonds

precariously, or investing patrimonies precariously, or plodding through the two dozen volumes of the

"George Washington Commercial Course," but Dexter borrowed a thousand dollars on his college degree and

It was a small laundry when he went into it but Dexter made a specialty of learning how the English washed

fine woollen golfstockings without shrinking them, and within a year he was catering to the trade that wore

knickerbockers. Men were insisting that their Shetland hose and sweaters go to his laundry just as they had

insisted on a caddy who could find golfballs. A little later he was doing their wives' lingerie as welland

running five branches in different parts of the city. Before he was twentyseven he owned the largest string

of laundries in his section of the country. It was then that he sold out and went to New York. But the part of

his story that concerns us goes back to the days when he was making his first big success.

When he was twentythree Mr. Hartone of the grayhaired men who like to say "Now there's a

boy"gave him a guest card to the Sherry Island Golf Club for a weekend. So he signed his name one day

on the register, and that afternoon played golf in a foursome with Mr. Hart and Mr. Sandwood and Mr. T. A.

Hedrick. He did not consider it necessary to remark that he had once carried Mr. Hart's bag over this same

links, and that he knew every trap and gully with his eyes shutbut he found himself glancing at the four

caddies who trailed them, trying to catch a gleam or gesture that would remind him of himself, that would

It was a curious day, slashed abruptly with fleeting, familiar impressions. One minute he had the sense of

being a trespasserin the next he was impressed by the tremendous superiority he felt toward Mr. T. A.

Then, because of a ball Mr. Hart lost near the fifteenth green, an enormous thing happened. While they were

searching the stiff grasses of the rough there was a clear call of "Fore!" from behind a hill in their rear. And

as they all turned abruptly from their search a bright new ball sliced abruptly over the hill and caught Mr. T.

"By Gad!" cried Mr. T. A. Hedrick, "they ought to put some of these crazy women off the course. It's getting

Her glance fell casually on each of the menthen scanned the fairway for her ball.

It was impossible to determine whether this question was ingenuous or malicious. In a moment, however, she

As she took her stance for a short mashie shot, Dexter looked at her closely. She wore a blue gingham dress,

rimmed at throat and shoulders with a white edging that accentuated her tan. The quality of exaggeration, of

thinness, which had made her passionate eyes and downturning mouth absurd at eleven, was gone now. She

was arrestingly beautiful. The color in her cheeks was centered like the color in a pictureit was not a

"high" color, but a sort of fluctuating and feverish warmth, so shaded that it seemed at any moment it would

recede and disappear. This color and the mobility of her mouth gave a continual impression of flux, of intense

life, of passionate vitalitybalanced only partially by the sad luxury of her eyes.

She swung her mashie impatiently and without interest, pitching the ball into a sandpit on the other side of

the green. With a quick, insincere smile and a careless "Thank you!" she went on after it.

"That Judy Jones!" remarked Mr. Hedrick on the next tee, as they waitedsome momentsfor her to play

on ahead. "All she needs is to be turned up and spanked for six months and then to be married off to an

"Goodlooking!" cried Mr. Hedrick contemptuously, "she always looks as if she wanted to be kissed!

"Better thank the Lord she doesn't drive a swifter ball," said Mr. Hart, winking at Dexter.

Later in the afternoon the sun went down with a riotous swirl of gold and varying blues and scarlets, and left

the dry, rustling night of Western summer. Dexter watched from the veranda of the Golf Club, watched the

even overlap of the waters in the little wind, silver molasses under the harvestmoon. Then the moon held a

finger to her lips and the lake became a clear pool, pale and quiet. Dexter put on his bathingsuit and swam

out to the farthest raft, where he stretched dripping on the wet canvas of the springboard.

There was a fish jumping and a star shining and the lights around the lake were gleaming. Over on a dark

peninsula a piano was playing the songs of last summer and of summers before that songs from

"ChinChin" and "The Count of Luxemburg" and "The Chocolate Soldier"and because the sound of a

piano over a stretch of water had always seemed beautiful to Dexter he lay perfectly quiet and listened.

The tune the piano was playing at that moment had been gay and new five years before when Dexter was a

sophomore at college. They had played it at a prom once when he could not afford the luxury of proms, and

he had stood outside the gymnasium and listened. The sound of the tune precipitated in him a sort of ecstasy

and it was with that ecstasy he viewed what happened to him now. It was a mood of intense appreciation, a

sense that, for once, he was magnificently attune to life and that everything about him was radiating a

A low, pale oblong detached itself suddenly from the darkness of the Island, spitting forth the reverberate

sound of a racing motorboat. Two white streamers of cleft water rolled themselves out behind it and almost

immediately the boat was beside him, drowning out the hot tinkle of the piano in the drone of its spray.

Dexter raising himself on his arms was aware of a figure standing at the wheel, of two dark eyes regarding

him over the lengthening space of waterthen the boat had gone by and was sweeping in an immense and

purposeless circle of spray round and round in the middle of the lake. With equal eccentricity one of the

"Who's that?" she called, shutting off her motor. She was so near now that Dexter could see her bathingsuit,

The nose of the boat bumped the raft, and as the latter tilted rakishly he was precipitated toward her. With

"Well, do you know how to drive a motorboat? Because if you do I wish you'd drive this one so I can ride

on the surfboard behind. My name is Judy Jones"she favored him with an absurd smirkrather, what

tried to be a smirk, for, twist her mouth as she might, it was not grotesque, it was merely beautiful"and I

live in a house over there on the Island, and in that house there is a man waiting for me. When he drove up at

There was a fish jumping and a star shining and the lights around the lake were gleaming. Dexter sat beside

Judy Jones and she explained how her boat was driven. Then she was in the water, swimming to the floating

surfboard with a sinuous crawl. Watching her was without effort to the eye, watching a branch waving or a

seagull flying. Her arms, burned to butternut, moved sinuously among the dull platinum ripples, elbow

appearing first, casting the forearm back with a cadence of falling water, then reaching out and down,

They moved out into the lake; turning, Dexter saw that she was kneeling on the low rear of the now uptilted

Obediently he jammed the lever forward and the white spray mounted at the bow. When he looked around

again the girl was standing up on the rushing board, her arms spread wide, her eyes lifted toward the moon.

His heart turned over like the flywheel of the boat, and, for the second time, her casual whim gave a new

NEXT EVENING while he waited for her to come downstairs, Dexter peopled the soft deep summer room

and the sunporch that opened from it with the men who had already loved Judy Jones. He knew the sort of

men they werethe men who when he first went to college had entered from the great prep schools with

graceful clothes and the deep tan of healthy summers. He had seen that, in one sense, he was better than these

men. He was newer and stronger. Yet in acknowledging to himself that he wished his children to be like them

he was admitting that he was but the rough, strong stuff from which they eternally sprang.

When the time had come for him to wear good clothes, he had known who were the best tailors in America,

and the best tailors in America had made him the suit he wore this evening. He had acquired that particular

reserve peculiar to his university, that set it off from other universities. He recognized the value to him of

such a mannerism and he had adopted it; he knew that to be careless in dress and manner required more

confidence than to be careful. But carelessness was for his children. His mother's name had been Krimslich.

She was a Bohemian of the peasant class and she had talked broken English to the end of her days. Her son

At a little after seven Judy Jones came downstairs. She wore a blue silk afternoon dress, and he was

disappointed at first that she had not put on something more elaborate. This feeling was accentuated when,

after a brief greeting, she went to the door of a butler's pantry and pushing it open called: "You can serve

dinner, Martha." He had rather expected that a butler would announce dinner, that there would be a cocktail.

Then he put these thoughts behind him as they sat down side by side on a lounge and looked at each other.

He remembered the last time he had seen her father, and he was glad the parents were not to be here

tonightthey might wonder who he was. He had been born in Keeble, a Minnesota village fifty miles

farther north, and he always gave Keeble as his home instead of Black Bear Village. Country towns were

well enough to come from if they weren't inconveniently in sight and used as footstools by fashionable lakes.

They talked of his university, which she had visited frequently during the past two years, and of the nearby

city which supplied Sherry Island with its patrons, and whither Dexter would return next day to his

During dinner she slipped into a moody depression which gave Dexter a feeling of uneasiness. Whatever

petulance she uttered in her throaty voice worried him. Whatever she smiled atat him, at a chicken liver, at

nothingit disturbed him that her smile could have no root in mirth, or even in amusement. When the scarlet

corners of her lips curved down, it was less a smile than an invitation to a kiss.

Then, after dinner, she led him out on the dark sunporch and deliberately changed the atmosphere.

"You're not. I like you. But I've just had a terrible afternoon. There was a man I cared about, and this

afternoon he told me out of a clear sky that he was poor as a churchmouse. He'd never even hinted it before.

"Suppose he was," she answered. "He didn't start right. You see, if I'd thought of him as poorwell, I've

been mad about loads of poor men, and fully intended to marry them all. But in this case, I hadn't thought of

him that way, and my interest in him wasn't strong enough to survive the shock. As if a girl calmly informed

"No," he said frankly, "I'm probably making more money than any man my age in the Northwest. I know

There was a pause. Then she smiled and the corners of her mouth drooped and an almost imperceptible sway

brought her closer to him, looking up into his eyes. A lump rose in Dexter's throat, and he waited breathless

for the experiment, facing the unpredictable compound that would form mysteriously from the elements of

their lips. Then he sawshe communicated her excitement to him, lavishly, deeply, with kisses that were not

a promise but a fulfillment. They aroused in him not hunger demanding renewal but surfeit that would

demand more surfeit . . . kisses that were like charity, creating want by holding back nothing at all.

It did not take him many hours to decide that he had wanted Judy Jones ever since he was a proud, desirous

IT BEGAN like thatand continued, with varying shades of intensity, on such a note right up to the

d_nouement. Dexter surrendered a part of himself to the most direct and unprincipled personality with which

he had ever come in contact. Whatever Judy wanted, she went after with the full pressure of her charm. There

was no divergence of method, no jockeying for position or premeditation of effectsthere was a very little

mental side to any of her affairs. She simply made men conscious to the highest degree of her physical

loveliness. Dexter had no desire to change her. Her deficiencies were knit up with a passionate energy that

When, as Judy's head lay against his shoulder that first night, she whispered, "I don't know what's the matter

with me. Last night I thought I was in love with a man and tonight I think I'm in love with you"it

seemed to him a beautiful and romantic thing to say. It was the exquisite excitability that for the moment he

controlled and owned. But a week later he was compelled to view this same quality in a different light. She

took him in her roadster to a picnic supper, and after supper she disappeared, likewise in her roadster, with

another man. Dexter became enormously upset and was scarcely able to be decently civil to the other people

present. When she assured him that she had not kissed the other man, he knew she was lyingyet he was

He was, as he found before the summer ended, one of a varying dozen who circulated about her. Each of

them had at one time been favored above all othersabout half of them still basked in the solace of

occasional sentimental revivals. Whenever one showed signs of dropping out through long neglect, she

granted him a brief honeyed hour, which encouraged him to tag along for a year or so longer. Judy made

these forays upon the helpless and defeated without malice, indeed half unconscious that there was anything

When a new man came to town every one dropped outdates were automatically cancelled.

The helpless part of trying to do anything about it was that she did it all herself. She was not a girl who could

be "won" in the kinetic senseshe was proof against cleverness, she was proof against charm; if any of these

assailed her too strongly she would immediately resolve the affair to a physical basis, and under the magic of

her physical splendor the strong as well as the brilliant played her game and not their own. She was

entertained only by the gratification of her desires and by the direct exercise of her own charm. Perhaps from

so much youthful love, so many youthful lovers, she had come, in selfdefense, to nourish herself wholly

Succeeding Dexter's first exhilaration came restlessness and dissatisfaction. The helpless ecstasy of losing

himself in her was opiate rather than tonic. It was fortunate for his work during the winter that those moments

of ecstasy came infrequently. Early in their acquaintance it had seemed for a while that there was a deep and

spontaneous mutual attraction that first August, for examplethree days of long evenings on her dusky

veranda, of strange wan kisses through the late afternoon, in shadowy alcoves or behind the protecting

trellises of the garden arbors, of mornings when she was fresh as a dream and almost shy at meeting him in

the clarity of the rising day. There was all the ecstasy of an engagement about it, sharpened by his realization

that there was no engagement. It was during those three days that, for the first time, he had asked her to marry

him. She said "maybe some day," she said "kiss me," she said "I'd like to marry you," she said "I love

The three days were interrupted by the arrival of a New York man who visited at her house for half

September. To Dexter's agony, rumor engaged them. The man was the son of the president of a great trust

company. But at the end of a month it was reported that Judy was yawning. At a dance one night she sat all

evening in a motorboat with a local beau, while the New Yorker searched the club for her frantically. She

told the local beau that she was bored with her visitor, and two days later he left. She was seen with him at

On this note the summer ended. Dexter was twentyfour, and he found himself increasingly in a position to

do as he wished. He joined two clubs in the city and lived at one of them. Though he was by no means an

integral part of the staglines at these clubs, he managed to be on hand at dances where Judy Jones was likely

to appear. He could have gone out socially as much as he likedhe was an eligible young man, now, and

popular with downtown fathers. His confessed devotion to Judy Jones had rather solidified his position. But

he had no social aspirations and rather despised the dancing men who were always on tap for the Thursday or

Saturday parties and who filled in at dinners with the younger married set. Already he was playing with the

idea of going East to New York. He wanted to take Judy Jones with him. No disillusion as to the world in

Eighteen months after he first met Judy Jones he became engaged to another girl. Her name was Irene

Scheerer, and her father was one of the men who had always believed in Dexter. Irene was lighthaired and

sweet and honorable, and a little stout, and she had two suitors whom she pleasantly relinquished when

Summer, fall, winter, spring, another summer, another fall so much he had given of his active life to the

incorrigible lips of Judy Jones. She had treated him with interest, with encouragement, with malice, with

indifference, with contempt. She had inflicted on him the innumerable little slights and indignities possible in

such a caseas if in revenge for having ever cared for him at all. She had beckoned him and yawned at him

and beckoned him again and he had responded often with bitterness and narrowed eyes. She had brought him

ecstatic happiness and intolerable agony of spirit. She had caused him untold inconvenience and not a little

trouble. She had insulted him, and she had ridden over him, and she had played his interest in her against his

interest in his workfor fun. She had done everything to him except to criticise himthis she had not

done it seemed to him only because it might have sullied the utter indifference she manifested and

When autumn had come and gone again it occurred to him that he could not have Judy Jones. He had to beat

this into his mind but he convinced himself at last. He lay awake at night for a while and argued it over. He

told himself the trouble and the pain she had caused him, he enumerated her glaring deficiencies as a wife.

Then he said to himself that he loved her, and after a while he fell asleep. For a week, lest he imagined her

husky voice over the telephone or her eyes opposite him at lunch, he worked hard and late, and at night he

At the end of a week he went to a dance and cut in on her once. For almost the first time since they had met

he did not ask her to sit out with him or tell her that she was lovely. It hurt him that she did not miss these

thingsthat was all. He was not jealous when he saw that there was a new man tonight. He had been

He stayed late at the dance. He sat for an hour with Irene Scheerer and talked about books and about music.

He knew very little about either. But he was beginning to be master of his own time now, and he had a rather

priggish notion that hethe young and already fabulously successful Dexter Greenshould know more

That was in October, when he was twentyfive. In January, Dexter and Irene became engaged. It was to be

The Minnesota winter prolonged itself interminably, and it was almost May when the winds came soft and

the snow ran down into Black Bear Lake at last. For the first time in over a year Dexter was enjoying a

certain tranquility of spirit. Judy Jones had been in Florida, and afterward in Hot Springs, and somewhere she

had been engaged, and somewhere she had broken it off. At first, when Dexter had definitely given her up, it

had made him sad that people still linked them together and asked for news of her, but when he began to be

placed at dinner next to Irene Scheerer people didn't ask him about her any morethey told him about her.

May at last. Dexter walked the streets at night when the darkness was damp as rain, wondering that so soon,

with so little done, so much of ecstasy had gone from him. May one year back had been marked by Judy's

poignant, unforgivable, yet forgiven turbulenceit had been one of those rare times when he fancied she had

grown to care for him. That old penny's worth of happiness he had spent for this bushel of content. He knew

that Irene would be no more than a curtain spread behind him, a hand moving among gleaming teacups, a

voice calling to children . . . fire and loveliness were gone, the magic of nights and the wonder of the varying

hours and seasons . . . slender lips, downturning, dropping to his lips and bearing him up into a heaven of

eyes. . . . The thing was deep in him. He was too strong and alive for it to die lightly.

In the middle of May when the weather balanced for a few days on the thin bridge that led to deep summer he

turned in one night at Irene's house. Their engagement was to be announced in a week nowno one would

be surprised at it. And tonight they would sit together on the lounge at the University Club and look on for

an hour at the dancers. It gave him a sense of solidity to go with hershe was so sturdily popular, so

"Dexter," she said, "Irene's gone upstairs with a splitting headache. She wanted to go with you but I made

"Oh, no. She's going to play golf with you in the morning. You can spare her for just one night, can't you,

Her smile was kind. She and Dexter liked each other. In the livingroom he talked for a moment before he

Returning to the University Club, where he had rooms, he stood in the doorway for a moment and watched

The familiar voice at his elbow startled him. Judy Jones had left a man and crossed the room to himJudy

Jones, a slender enamelled doll in cloth of gold: gold in a band at her head, gold in two slipper points at her

dress's hem. The fragile glow of her face seemed to blossom as she smiled at him. A breeze of warmth and

light blew through the room. His hands in the pockets of his dinnerjacket tightened spasmodically. He was

She turned and he followed her. She had been awayhe could have wept at the wonder of her return. She

had passed through enchanted streets, doing things that were like provocative music. All mysterious

happenings, all fresh and quickening hopes, had gone away with her, come back with her now.

In then, with a rustle of golden cloth. He slammed the door. Into so many cars she had steppedlike

thislike that her back against the leather, soher elbow resting on the door waiting. She would have

been soiled long since had there been anything to soil herexcept herselfbut this was her own self

With an effort he forced himself to start the car and back into the street. This was nothing, he must remember.

She had done this before, and he had put her behind him, as he would have crossed a bad account from his

He drove slowly downtown and, affecting abstraction, traversed the deserted streets of the business section,

peopled here and there where a movie was giving out its crowd or where consumptive or pugilistic youth

lounged in front of pool halls. The clink of glasses and the slap of hands on the bars issued from saloons,

She was watching him closely and the silence was embarrassing, yet in this crisis he could find no casual

word with which to profane the hour. At a convenient turning he began to zigzag back toward the University

He wondered if she knew of Irene Scheerer. She had been back only a dayher absence had been almost

"What a remark!" Judy laughed sadlywithout sadness. She looked at him searchingly. He became absorbed

"You're handsomer than you used to be," she said thoughtfully. "Dexter, you have the most rememberable

He could have laughed at this, but he did not laugh. It was the sort of thing that was said to sophomores. Yet

"I'm awfully tired of everything, darling." She called every one darling, endowing the endearment with

The directness of this confused him. He should have told her now that he was going to marry another girl, but

he could not tell her. He could as easily have sworn that he had never loved her.

"I think we'd get along," she continued, on the same note, "unless probably you've forgotten me and fallen in

Her confidence was obviously enormous. She had said, in effect, that she found such a thing impossible to

believe, that if it were true he had merely committed a childish indiscretion and probably to show off. She

would forgive him, because it was not a matter of any moment but rather something to be brushed aside

"Of course you could never love anybody but me," she continued. "I like the way you love me. Oh, Dexter,

"I wish we could be like that again," she said, and he forced himself to answer:

There was not the faintest emphasis on the name, yet Dexter was suddenly ashamed.

"Oh, take me home," cried Judy suddenly; "I don't want to go back to that idiotic dancewith those

Then, as he turned up the street that led to the residence district, Judy began to cry quietly to herself. He had

The dark street lightened, the dwellings of the rich loomed up around them, he stopped his coup_ in front of

the great white bulk of the Mortimer Joneses house, somnolent, gorgeous, drenched with the splendor of the

damp moonlight. Its solidity startled him. The strong walls, the steel of the girders, the breadth and beam and

pomp of it were there only to bring out the contrast with the young beauty beside him. It was sturdy to

accentuate her slightnessas if to show what a breeze could be generated by a butterfly's wing.

He sat perfectly quiet, his nerves in wild clamor, afraid that if he moved he would find her irresistibly in his

"I'm more beautiful than anybody else," she said brokenly, "why can't I be happy?" Her moist eyes tore at his

stabilityher mouth turned slowly downward with an exquisite sadness: "I'd like to marry you if you'll have

me, Dexter. I suppose you think I'm not worth having, but I'll be so beautiful for you, Dexter."

A million phrases of anger, pride, passion, hatred, tenderness fought on his lips. Then a perfect wave of

emotion washed over him, carrying off with it a sediment of wisdom, of convention, of doubt, of honor. This

IT WAS STRANGE that neither when it was over nor a long time afterward did he regret that night. Looking

at it from the perspective of ten years, the fact that Judy's flare for him endured just one month seemed of

little importance. Nor did it matter that by his yielding he subjected himself to a deeper agony in the end and

gave serious hurt to Irene Scheerer and to Irene's parents, who had befriended him. There was nothing

Dexter was at bottom hardminded. The attitude of the city on his action was of no importance to him, not

because he was going to leave the city, but because any outside attitude on the situation seemed superficial.

He was completely indifferent to popular opinion. Nor, when he had seen that it was no use, that he did not

possess in himself the power to move fundamentally or to hold Judy Jones, did he bear any malice toward

her. He loved her, and he would love her until the day he was too old for lovingbut he could not have her.

So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep

Even the ultimate falsity of the grounds upon which Judy terminated the engagement that she did not want to

"take him away" from IreneJudy, who had wanted nothing elsedid not revolt him. He was beyond any

He went East in February with the intention of selling out his laundries and settling in New Yorkbut the

war came to America in March and changed his plans. He returned to the West, handed over the management

of the business to his partner, and went into the first officers' trainingcamp in late April. He was one of those

young thousands who greeted the war with a certain amount of relief, welcoming the liberation from webs of

THIS STORY is not his biography, remember, although things creep into it which have nothing to do with

those dreams he had when he was young. We are almost done with them and with him now. There is only one

It took place in New York, where he had done wellso well that there were no barriers too high for him. He

was thirtytwo years old, and, except for one flying trip immediately after the war, he had not been West in

seven years. A man named Devlin from Detroit came into his office to see him in a business way, and then

and there this incident occurred, and closed out, so to speak, this particular side of his life.

"So you're from the Middle West," said the man Devlin with careless curiosity. "That's funnyI thought

men like you were probably born and raised on Wall Street. You knowwife of one of my best friends in

"Judy Simms," said Devlin with no particular interest; "Judy Jones she was once."

"Yes, I knew her." A dull impatience spread over him. He had heard, of course, that she was

"Oh, Lud Simms has gone to pieces in a way. I don't mean he illuses her, but he drinks and runs around "

He was possessed with a wild notion of rushing out into the streets and taking a train to Detroit. He rose to

"No, I'm not busy," said Dexter, steadying his voice. "I'm not busy at all. Not busy at all. Did you say she

"Well, that's, I told you all there is to it. He treats her like the devil. Oh, they're not going to get divorced or

anything. When he's particularly outrageous she forgives him. In fact, I'm inclined to think she loves him. She

"Look here," said Dexter, sitting down suddenly, "I don't understand. You say she was a 'pretty girl' and now

you say she's 'all right.' I don't understand what you meanJudy Jones wasn't a pretty girl, at all. She was a

"I'm not trying to start a row," he said. "I think Judy's a nice girl and I like her. I can't understand how a man

like Lud Simms could fall madly in love with her, but he did." Then he added: "Most of the women like her."

Dexter looked closely at Devlin, thinking wildly that there must be a reason for this, some insensitivity in the

"Lots of women fade just like that," Devlin snapped his fingers. "You must have seen it happen. Perhaps I've

forgotten how pretty she was at her wedding. I've seen her so much since then, you see. She has nice eyes."

A sort of dulness settled down upon Dexter. For the first time in his life he felt like getting very drunk. He

knew that he was laughing loudly at something Devlin had said, but he did not know what it was or why it

was funny. When, in a few minutes, Devlin went he lay down on his lounge and looked out the window at the

New York skyline into which the sun was sinking in dull lovely shades of pink and gold.

He had thought that having nothing else to lose he was invulnerable at lastbut he knew that he had just lost

something more, as surely as if he had married Judy Jones and seen her fade away before his eyes.

The dream was gone. Something had been taken from him. In a sort of panic he pushed the palms of his

hands into his eyes and tried to bring up a picture of the waters lapping on Sherry Island and the moonlit

veranda, and gingham on the golflinks and the dry sun and the gold color of her neck's soft down. And her

mouth damp to his kisses and her eyes plaintive with melancholy and her freshness like new fine linen in the

morning. Why, these things were no longer in the world! They had existed and they existed no longer.

For the first time in years the tears were streaming down his face. But they were for himself now. He did not

care about mouth and eyes and moving hands. He wanted to care, and he could not care. For he had gone

away and he could never go back any more. The gates were closed, the sun was gone down, and there was no

beauty but the gray beauty of steel that withstands all time. Even the grief he could have borne was left

behind in the country of illusion, of youth, of the richness of life, where his winter dreams had flourished.

"Long ago," he said, "long ago, there was something in me, but now that thing is gone. Now that thing is

gone, that thing is gone. I cannot cry. I cannot care. That thing will come back no more."

Jo Powell was a Jellybean. Much as I desire to make him an appealing character, I feel that it would be

unscrupulous to deceive you on that point. He was a bredinthebone, dyedinthewool, ninetynine

threequarters per cent Jellybean and he grew lazily all during Jellybean season, which is every season,

Now if you call a Memphis man a Jellybean he will quite possibly pull a long sinewy rope from his hip

pocket and hang you to a convenient telegraphpole. If you call a New Orleans man a Jellybean he will

probably grin and ask you who is taking your girl to the Mardi Gras ball. The particular Jellybean patch

which produced the protagonist of this history lies somewhere between the twoa little city of forty

thousand that has dozed sleepily for forty thousand years in southern Georgia, occasionally stirring in its

slumbers and muttering something about a war that took place sometime, somewhere, and that everyone else

Jim was a Jellybean. I write that again because it has such a pleasant soundrather like the beginning of a

fairy storyas if Jim were nice. It somehow gives me a picture of him with a round, appetizing face and all

sorts of leaves and vegetables growing out of his cap. But Jim was long and thin and bent at the waist from

stooping over pooltables, and he was what might have been known in the indiscriminating North as a corner

loafer. "Jellybean" is the name throughout the undissolved Confederacy for one who spends his life

conjugating the verb to idle in the first person singularI am idling, I have idled, I will idle.

Jim was born in a white house on a green corner. It had four weatherbeaten pillars in front and a great

amount of latticework in the rear that made a cheerful crisscross background for a flowery sundrenched

lawn. Originally the dwellers in the white house had owned the ground next door and next door to that and

next door to that, but this had been so long ago that even Jim's father scarcely remembered it. He had, in fact,

thought it a matter of so little moment that when he was dying from a pistol wound got in a brawl he

neglected even to tell little Jim, who was five years old and miserably frightened. The white house became a

boardinghouse run by a tightlipped lady from Macon, whom Jim called Aunt Mamie and detested with all

He became fifteen, went to high school, wore his hair in black snarls, and was afraid of girls. He hated his

home where four women and one old man prolonged an interminable chatter from summer to summer about

what lots the Powell place had originally included and what sort of flowers would be out next. Sometimes the

parents of little girls in town, remembering Jim's mother and fancying a resemblance in the dark eyes and

hair, invited him to parties, but parties made him shy and he much preferred sitting on a disconnected axle in

Tilly's Garage, rolling the bones or exploring his mouth endlessly with a long straw. For pocket money, he

picked up odd jobs, and it was due to this that he stopped going to parties. At his third party little Marjorie

Haight had whispered indiscreetly and within hearing distance that he was a boy who brought the groceries

sometimes. So instead of the twostep and polka, Jim had learned to throw any number he desired on the dice

and had listened to spicy tales of all the shootings that had occurred in the surrounding country during the

He became eighteen. The war broke out and he enlisted as a gob and polished brass in the Charleston

Navyyard for a year. Then, by way of variety, he went North and polished brass in the Brooklyn Navyyard

When the war was over he came home. He was twentyone, his trousers were too short and too tight. His

buttoned shoes were long and narrow. His tie was an alarming conspiracy of purple and pink marvellously

scrolled, and over it were two blue eyes faded like a piece of very good old cloth long exposed to the sun.

In the twilight of one April evening when a soft gray had drifted down along the cotton fields and over the

sultry town, he was a vague figure leaning against a board fence, whistling and gazing at the moon's rim

above the lights of Jackson Street. His mind was working persistently on a problem that had held his attention

Back in the days when all the boys had detested all the girls, Clark Darrow and Jim had sat side by side in

school. But, while Jim's social aspirations had died in the oily air of the garage, Clark had alternately fallen in

and out of love, gone to college, taken to drink, given it up, and, in short, become one of the best beaux of the

town. Nevertheless Clark and Jim had retained a friendship that, though casual, was perfectly definite. That

afternoon Clark's ancient Ford had slowed up beside Jim, who was on the sidewalk and, out of a clear sky,

Clark had invited him to a party at the country club. The impulse that made him do this was no stranger than

the impulse which made Jim accept. The latter was probably an unconscious ennui, a halffrightened sense of

He began to sing, drumming his long foot idly on a stone block in the sidewalk till it wobbled up and down in

They would all be therethe old crowd, the crowd to which, by right of the white house, sold long since, and

the portrait of the officer in gray over the mantel, Jim should have belonged. But that crowd had grown up

together into a tight little set as gradually as the girls' dresses had lengthened inch by inch, as definitely as the

boys' trousers had dropped suddenly to their ankles. And to that society of first names and dead puppyloves

Jim was an outsidera running mate of poor whites. Most of the men knew him, condescendingly; he tipped

When the dusk had thickened into a blue setting for the moon, he walked through the hot, pleasantly pungent

town to Jackson Street. The stores were closing and the last shoppers were drifting homeward, as if borne on

the dreamy revolution of a slow merrygoround. A streetfair farther down made a brilliant alley of

varicolored booths and contributed a blend of music to the nightan oriental dance on a calliope, a

melancholy bugle in front of a freak show, a cheerful rendition of "Back Home in Tennessee" on a

The Jellybean stopped in a store and bought a collar. Then he sauntered along toward Soda Sam's, where he

found the usual three or four cars of a summer evening parked in front and the little darkies running back and

It was a voice at his elbowJoe Ewing sitting in an automobile with Marylyn Wade. Nancy Lamar and a

Passing, he ambled on toward the garage where he had a room upstairs. His "How y' all" had been said to

Nancy had a mouth like a remembered kiss and shadowy eyes and blueblack hair inherited from her mother

who had been born in Budapest. Jim passed her often in the street, walking smallboy fashion with her hands

in her pockets and he knew that with her inseparable Sally Carrol Hopper she had left a trail of broken hearts

For a few fleeting moments Jim wished he could dance. Then he laughed and as he reached his door began to

At ninethirty Jim and Clark met in front of Soda Sam's and started for the Country Club in Clark's Ford.

"Jim," asked Clark casually, as they rattled through the jasminescented night, "how do you keep alive?"

"Well," he said finally, "I got a room over Tilly's garage. I help him some with the cars in the afternoon an' he

gives it to me free. Sometimes I drive one of his taxies and pick up a little thataway. I get fed up doin' that

"Well, when there's a lot of work I help him by the daySaturdays usuallyand then there's one main

source of revenue I don't generally mention. Maybe you don't recollect I'm about the champion crapshooter

of this town. They make me shoot from a cup now because once I get the feel of a pair of dice they just roll

"I never could learn to set 'em so's they'd do what I wanted. Wish you'd shoot with Nancy Lamar some day

and take all her money away from her. She will roll 'em with the boys and she loses more than her daddy can

afford to give her. I happen to know she sold a good ring last month to pay a debt."

"Sold. Got a pretty good price, seein' it wasn't in a good part of town no more. Lawyer told me to put it into

Liberty bonds. But Aunt Mamie got so she didn't have no sense, so it takes all the interest to keep her up at

"I got an old uncle upstate an' I reckin I kin go up there if ever I get sure enough pore. Nice farm, but not

enough niggers around to work it. He's asked me to come up and help him, but I don't guess I'd take much to

it. Too doggone lonesome" He broke off suddenly. "Clark, I want to tell you I'm much obliged to you

for askin' me out, but I'd be a lot happier if you'd just stop the car right here an' let me walk back into town."

"Shucks!" Clark grunted. "Do you good to step out. You don't have to dancejust get out there on the floor

"Hold on," exclaimed Jim uneasily, "Don't you go leadin' me up to any girls and leavin' me there so I'll have

"'Cause," continued Jim desperately, "without you swear you won't do that I'm agoin' to get out right here an'

They agreed after some argument that Jim, unmolested by females, was to view the spectacle from a secluded

So ten o'clock found the Jellybean with his legs crossed and his arms conservatively folded, trying to look

casually at home and politely uninterested in the dancers. At heart he was torn between overwhelming

selfconsciousness and an intense curiosity as to all that went on around him. He saw the girls emerge one by

one from the dressingroom, stretching and pluming themselves like bright birds, smiling over their

powdered shoulders at the chaperones, casting a quick glance around to take in the room and, simultaneously,

the room's reaction to their entranceand then, again like birds, alighting and nestling in the sober arms of

their waiting escorts. Sally Carrol Hopper, blonde and lazyeyed, appeared clad in her favorite pink and

blinking like an awakened rose. Marjorie Haight, Marylyn Wade, Harriet Cary, all the girls he had seen

loitering down Jackson Street by noon, now, curled and brilliantined and delicately tinted for the overhead

lights, were miraculously strange Dresden figures of pink and blue and red and gold, fresh from the shop and

He had been there half an hour, totally uncheered by Clark's jovial visits which were each one accompanied

by a "Hello, old boy, how you making out?" and a slap at his knee. A dozen males had spoken to him or

stopped for a moment beside him, but he knew that they were each one surprised at finding him there and

fancied that one or two were even slightly resentful. But at half past ten his embarrassment suddenly left him

and a pull of breathless interest took him completely out of himselfNancy Lamar had come out of the

She was dressed in yellow organdie, a costume of a hundred cool corners, with three tiers of ruffles and a big

bow in back until she shed black and yellow around her in a sort of phosphorescent lustre. The Jellybean's

eyes opened wide and a lump arose in his throat. For a minute she stood beside the door until her partner

hurried up. Jim recognized him as the stranger who had been with her in Joe Ewing's car that afternoon. He

saw her set her arms akimbo and say something in a low voice, and laugh. The man laughed too and Jim

experienced the quick pang of a weird new kind of pain. Some ray had passed between the pair, a shaft of

beauty from that sun that had warmed him a moment since. The Jellybean felt suddenly like a weed in a

"You come along with me," commanded Clark. "I've got something that'll put an edge on the evening."

Jim followed him awkwardly across the floor and up the stairs to the lockerroom where Clark produced a

Ginger ale arrived on a tray. Such potent nectar as "good old corn" needed some disguise beyond seltzer.

"She's all dolled up to a fareyouwell tonight," continued Clark. "Notice that fellow she's with?"

"Yeah. Well, that's Ogden Merritt from Savannah. Old man Merritt makes the Merritt safety razors. This

"She's a wild baby," continued Clark, "but I like her. So does everybody. But she sure does do crazy stunts.

She usually gets out alive, but she's got scars all over her reputation from one thing or another she's done."

"Not so bad. Oh, she's a wild one. Shoots craps, say, boy! And she do like her highballs. Promised I'd give

"Damned if I know. Seems like all the best girls around here marry fellas and go off somewhere."

"Listen, Jim, I got to go dance and I'd be much obliged if you just stick this corn right on your hip as long as

you're not dancing. If a man notices I've had a drink he'll come up and ask me and before I know it it's all

So Nancy Lamar was going to marry. This toast of a town was to become the private property of an

individual in white trousersand all because white trousers' father had made a better razor than his neighbor.

As they descended the stairs Jim found the idea inexplicably depressing. For the first time in his life he felt a

vague and romantic yearning. A picture of her began to form in his imaginationNancy walking boylike and

debonnaire along the street, talking an orange as tithe from a worshipful fruitdealer, charging a dope on a

mythical account at Soda Sam's, assembling a convoy of beaux and then driving off in triumphal state for an

The Jellybean walked out on the porch to a deserted corner, dark between the moon on the lawn and the

single lighted door of the ballroom. There he found a chair and, lighting a cigarette, drifted into the

thoughtless reverie that was his usual mood. Yet now it was a reverie made sensuous by the night and by the

hot smell of damp powder puffs, tucked in the fronts of low dresses and distilling a thousand rich scents to

float out through the open door. The music itself, blurred by a loud trombone, became hot and shadowy, a

Suddenly the square of yellow light that fell through the door was obscured by a dark figure. A girl had come

out of the dressingroom and was standing on the porch not more than ten feet away. Jim heard a

"I've got gum on my shoe. Some utter ass left his or her gum on the floor and of course I stepped in it."

"Do you know how to get it off?" she demanded petulantly. "I've tried a knife. I've tried every damn thing in

the dressingroom. I've tried soap and water and even perfume and I've ruined my powderpuff trying to

The words had scarcely left his lips when she grasped his hand and pulled him at a run off the low veranda,

over a flower bed and at a gallop toward a group of cars parked in the moonlight by the first hole of the golf

Obediently Jim turned to the cars and began inspecting them with a view to obtaining the desired solvent.

"Here," he said after a moment's search. "Here's one that's easy. Got a handkerchief?"

He turned it on fuller. The dripping became a flow and formed an oily pool that glistened brightly, reflecting

"Ah," she sighed contentedly, "let it all out. The only thing to do is to wade in it."

In desperation he turned on the tap full and the pool suddenly widened sending tiny rivers and trickles in all

She stepped daintily out of the gasolene and began scraping her slippers, side and bottom, on the running

board of the automobile. The Jellybean contained himself no longer. He bent double with explosive laughter

"You're here with Clark Darrow, aren't you?" she asked as they walked back toward the veranda.

"Well," said Jim, "I guess that'll be all right. I got his bottle right here in my pocket."

She perched herself on the side of a table and he dropped into one of the wicker chairs beside her. Taking out

the cork she held the flask to her lips and took a long drink. He watched her fascinated.

"In fact," she went on carelessly, "they don't know how to do anything very well. The one thing I regret in my

"Yes. Immensely. I've never been there in person, but I've met a lot of Englishmen who were over here in the

army, Oxford and Cambridge menyou know, that's like Sewanee and University of Georgia are hereand

"Well, she's what I'd like to be. Dark, you know, like me, and wild as sin. She's the girl who rode her horse up

the steps of some cathedral or church or something and all the novelists made their heroines do it afterwards."

"Pass the bottle," suggested Nancy. "I'm going to take another little one. A little drink wouldn't hurt a baby.

"You see," she continued, again breathless after a draught. "People over there have style. Nobody has style

here. I mean the boys here aren't really worth dressing up for or doing sensational things for. Don't you

"And I'd like to do 'em an' all. I'm really the only girl in town that has style."

"Like to have boat," she suggested dreamily. "Like to sail out on a silver lake, say the Thames, for instance.

Have champagne and caviare sandwiches along. Have about eight people. And one of the men would jump

overboard to amuse the party and get drowned like a man did with Lady Diana Manners once."

"Didn't mean drown himself to please her. He just meant to jump overboard and make everybody laugh."

"Oh, I suppose they laughed a little," she admitted. "I imagine she did, anyway. She's pretty hard, I

"Like nails." She yawned again and added, "Give me a little more from that bottle."

"Don't treat me like a girl," she warned him. "I'm not like any girl you ever saw." She considered. "Still,

At twelve o'clock a procession of cloaks issued single file from the women's dressingroom and, each one

pairing with a coated beau like dancers meeting in a cotillion figure, drifted through the door with sleepy

happy laughterthrough the door into the dark where autos backed and snorted and parties called to one

Jim, sitting in his corner, rose to look for Clark. They had met at eleven; then Clark had gone in to dance. So,

seeking him, Jim wandered into the softdrink stand that had once been a bar. The room was deserted except

for a sleepy negro dozing behind the counter and two boys lazily fingering a pair of dice at one of the tables.

Jim was about to leave when he saw Clark coming in. At the same moment Clark looked up.

"Hi, Jim!" he commanded. "C'mon over and help us with this bottle. I guess there's not much left, but there's

Nancy, the man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were lolling and laughing in the doorway.

They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim,

faintly ill at ease, turned his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the two boys at the

"Nobody's around," insisted Clark, "except Mr. Taylor. He's walking up and down like a wildman trying to

"I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can't park when she's around."

Nancy's cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. "I haven't seen his silly little flivver in two

Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of uncertain age standing in the doorway.

Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. "Have to, I guess. I'm waiting till they dig me up

His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim wondered what he had heard from the

"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you shot craps!" Nancy was overjoyed to find that he had seated himself and

instantly covered her bet. They had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely discouraged

"All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven." Nancy was cooing to the dice. She rattled

Five passes to her credit found Taylor a bad loser. She was making it personal, and after each success Jim

watched triumph flutter across her face. She was doubling with each throwsuch luck could scarcely last.

"Ah, but watch this one," she whispered. It was eight on the dice and she called her number.

Ada from Decatur rolled over the table. Nancy was flushed and halfhysterical, but her luck was holding. She

drove the pot up and up, refusing to drag. Taylor was drumming with his fingers on the table, but he was in to

Then Nancy tried for a ten and lost the dice. Taylor seized them avidly. He shot in silence, and in the hush of

excitement the clatter of one pass after another on the table was the only sound.

Now Nancy had the dice again, but her luck had broken. An hour passed. Back and forth it went. Taylor had

been at it againand again and again. They were even at lastNancy lost her ultimate five dollars.

"Will you take my check," she said quickly, "for fifty, and we'll shoot it all?" Her voice was a little unsteady

Clark exchanged an uncertain but alarmed glance with Joe Ewing. Taylor shot again. He had Nancy's check.

"How 'bout another?" she said wildly. "Jes' any bank'll domoney everywhere as a matter of fact."

Jim understoodthe "good old corn" he had given herthe "good old corn" she had taken since. He wished

he dared interferea girl of that age and position would hardly have two bank accounts. When the clock

"May Ican't you let me roll 'em for you?" he suggested, his low, lazy voice a little strained.

"All rightold boy! As Lady Diana Manners says, `Shoot 'em, Jellybean'My luck's gone."

"Mr. Taylor," said Jim, carelessly, "well shoot for one of those there checks against the cash."

Jim swept up the last check and putting it with the others tore them into confetti and scattered them on the

floor. Someone started singing, and Nancy kicking her chair backward rose to her feet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced. "Ladiesthat's you Marylyn. I want to tell the world that Mr. Jim

Powell, who is a wellknown Jellybean of this city, is an exception to a great rule`lucky in

diceunlucky in love.' He's lucky in dice, and as matter fact II love him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy

Lamar, famous darkhaired beauty often featured in the Herald as one th' most popular members of younger

set as other girls are often featured in this particular case. Wish to announcewish to announce, anyway,

"My error," she laughed, "she stoops tostoops toanyways We'll drink to Jellybean . . . Mr. Jim

And a few minutes later as Jim waited hat in hand for Clark in the darkness of that same corner of the porch

"Jellybean," she said, "are you here, Jellybean? I think" and her slight unsteadiness seemed part of an

enchanted dream"I think you deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jellybean."

Then she was gone, down the porch, over the cricketloud lawn. Jim saw Merritt come out the front door and

say something to her angrilysaw her laugh and, turning away, walk with averted eyes to his car. Marylyn

Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "All pretty lit, I guess," he yawned. "Merritt's in a mean mood.

Over east along the golf course a faint rug of gray spread itself across the feet of the night. The party in the

The car drove off to a burst of singing. A rooster on a farm across the way took up a solitary mournful crow,

and behind them a last negro waiter turned out the porch light. Jim and Clark strolled over toward the Ford,

It was still too dark for him to see the flush on Jim's thin cheeksor to know that it was a flush of unfamiliar

Over Tilly's garage a bleak room echoed all day to the rumble and snorting downstairs and the singing of

the negro washers as they turned the hose on the cars outside. It was a cheerless square of a room, punctuated

with a bed and a battered table on which lay half a dozen booksJoe Miller's "Slow Train thru Arkansas,"

"Lucille," in an old edition very much annotated in an oldfashioned hand; "The Eyes of the World," by

Harold Bell Wright, and an ancient prayerbook of the Church of England with the name Alice Powell and

The East, gray when the Jellybean entered the garage, became a rich and vivid blue as he turned on his

solitary electric light. He snapped it out again, and going to the window rested his elbows on the sill and

stared into the deepening morning. With the awakening of his emotions, his first perception was a sense of

futility, a dull ache at the utter grayness of his life. A wall had sprung up suddenly around him hedging him

in, a wall as definite and tangible as the white wall of his bare room. And with his perception of this wall all

that had been the romance of his existence, the casualness, the lighthearted improvidence, the miraculous

openhandedness of life faded out. The Jellybean strolling up Jackson Street humming a lazy song, known

at every shop and street stand, cropful of easy greeting and local wit, sad sometimes for only the sake of

sadness and the flight of timethat Jellybean was suddenly vanished. The very name was a reproach, a

triviality. With a flood of insight he knew that Merritt must despise him, that even Nancy's kiss in the dawn

would have awakened not jealousy but only a contempt for Nancy's so lowering herself. And on his part the

Jellybean had used for her a dingy subterfuge learned from the garage. He had been her moral laundry; the

As the gray became blue, brightened and filled the room, he crossed to his bed and threw himself down on it,

As he said his something gave way within him like a lump melting in his throat. The air cleared and became

radiant with dawn, and turning over on his face he began to sob dully into the pillow.

In the sunshine of three o'clock Clark Darrow chugging painfully along Jackson Street was hailed by the

"Hi!" called Clark, bringing his Ford to an astonishing stop alongside. "Just get up?"

"Never did go to bed. Felt sorta restless, so I took a long walk this morning out in the country. Just got into

"I'm thinkin' of leavin' town," continued the Jelly bean, absorbed by his own thoughts. "Been thinkin' of

goin' up on the farm, and takin' a little that work off Uncle Dun. Reckin I been bummin' too long."

"I reckin maybe after Aunt Mamie dies I could sink that money of mine in the farm and make somethin' out

"I don't know," he began slowly, "somethin' aboutabout that girl last night talkin' about a lady named

Diana Mannersan English lady, sorta got me thinkin'!" He drew himself up and looked oddly at Clark, "I

"And I'm the last of 'em," continued the Jellybean, his voice rising slightly, "and I ain't worth shucks. Name

they call me by means jellyweak and wobbly like. People who weren't nothin' when my folks was a lot

"So I'm through. I'm goin' today. And when I come back to this town it's going to be like a gentleman."

"Reckon you're not the only one it shook up," he admitted gloomily. "All this thing of girls going round like

they do is going to stop right quick. Too bad, too, but everybody'll have to see it thataway."

"Leaked out? How on earth could they keep it secret. It'll be announced in the papers tonight. Doctor

Jim put his hands on the sides of the car and tightened his long fingers on the metal.

"Why," announced Clark dramatically, "those four got another bottle of corn, got tight and decided to shock

the townso Nancy and that fella Merritt were married in Rockville at seven o'clock this morning."

"Sure enough. Nancy sobered up and rushed back into town, crying and frightened to deathclaimed it'd all

been a mistake. First Doctor Lamar went wild and was going to kill Merritt, but finally they got it patched up

"It's too bad," said Clark philosophically. "I don't mean the weddingreckon that's all right, though I don't

guess Nancy cared a darn about him. But it's a crime for a nice girl like that to hurt her family that way."

The Jellybean let go the car and turned away. Again something was going on inside him, some inexplicable

The street was hot at three and hotter still at four, the April dust seeming to enmesh the sun and give it forth

again as a worldold joke forever played on an eternity of afternoons. But at half past four a first layer of

quiet fell and the shades lengthened under the awnings and heavy foliaged trees. In this heat nothing

mattered. All life was weather, a waiting through the hot where events had no significance for the cool that

was soft and caressing like a woman's hand on a tired forehead. Down in Georgia there is a feelingperhaps

inarticulatethat this is the greatest wisdom of the Southso after a while the Jellybean turned into a

poolhall on Jackson Street where he was sure to find a congenial crowd who would make all the old

After dark on Saturday night one could stand on the first tee of the golfcourse and see the countryclub

windows as a yellow expanse over a very black and wavy ocean. The waves of this ocean, so to speak, were

the heads of many curious caddies, a few of the more ingenious chauffeurs, the golf professional's deaf

sisterand there were usually several stray, diffident waves who might have rolled inside had they so

The balcony was inside. It consisted of the circle of wicker chairs that lined the wall of the combination

clubroom and ballroom. At these Saturdaynight dances it was largely feminine; a great babel of

middleaged ladies with sharp eyes and icy hearts behind lorgnettes and large bosoms. The main function of

the balcony was critical. It occasionally showed grudging admiration, but never approval, for it is well known

among ladies over thirtyfive that when the younger set dance in the summertime it is with the very worst

intentions in the world, and if they are not bombarded with stony eyes stray couples will dance weird barbaric

interludes in the corners, and the more popular, more dangerous, girls will sometimes be kissed in the parked

But, after all, this critical circle is not close enough to the stage to see the actors' faces and catch the subtler

byplay. It can only frown and lean, ask questions and make satisfactory deductions from its set of postulates,

such as the one which states that every young man with a large income leads the life of a hunted partridge. It

never really appreciates the drama of the shifting, semicruel world of adolescence. No; boxes,

orchestracircle, principals, and chorus are represented by the medley of faces and voices that sway to the

From sixteenyearold Otis Ormonde, who has two more years at Hill School, to G. Reece Stoddard, over

whose bureau at home hangs a Harvard law diploma; from little Madeleine Hogue, whose hair still feels

strange and uncomfortable on top of her head, to Bessie MacRae, who has been the life of the party a little

too longmore than ten yearsthe medley is not only the centre of the stage but contains the only people

With a flourish and a bang the music stops. The couples exchange artificial, effortless smiles, facetiously

repeat "ladedada dumdum," and then the clatter of young feminine voices soars over the burst of

A few disappointed stags caught in midfloor as they had been about to cut in subsided listlessly back to the

walls, because this was not like the riotous Christmas dancesthese summer hops were considered just

pleasantly warm and exciting, where even the younger marrieds rose and performed ancient waltzes and

terrifying fox trots to the tolerant amusement of their younger brothers and sisters.

Warren McIntyre, who casually attended Yale, being one of the unfortunate stags, felt in his dinnercoat

pocket for a cigarette and strolled out onto the wide, semidark veranda, where couples were scattered at

tables, filling the lanternhung night with vague words and hazy laughter. He nodded here and there at the

less absorbed and as he passed each couple some halfforgotten fragment of a story played in his mind, for it

was not a large city and every one was Who's Who to every one else's past. There, for example, were Jim

Strain and Ethel Demorest, who had been privately engaged for three years. Every one knew that as soon as

Jim managed to hold a job for more than two months she would marry him. Yet how bored they both looked,

and how wearily Ethel regarded Jim sometimes, as if she wondered why she had trained the vines of her

Warren was nineteen and rather pitying with those of his friends who hadn't gone East to college. But, like

most boys, he bragged tremendously about the girls of his city when he was away from it. There was

Genevieve Ormonde, who regularly made the rounds of dances, houseparties, and football games at

Princeton, Yale, Williams, and Cornell; there was blackeyed Roberta Dillon, who was quite as famous to

her own generation as Hiram Johnson or Ty Cobb; and, of course, there was Marjorie Harvey, who besides

having a fairylike face and a dazzling, bewildering tongue was already justly celebrated for having turned

five cartwheels in succession during the last pumpandslipper dance at New Haven.

Warren, who had grown up across the street from Marjorie, had long been "crazy about her." Sometimes she

seemed to reciprocate his feeling with a faint gratitude, but she had tried him by her infallible test and

informed him gravely that she did not love him. Her test was that when she was away from him she forgot

him and had affairs with other boys. Warren found this discouraging, especially as Marjorie had been making

little trips all summer, and for the first two or three days after each arrival home he saw great heaps of mail

on the Harveys' hall table addressed to her in various masculine handwritings. To make matters worse, all

during the month of August she had been visited by her cousin Bernice from Eau Claire, and it seemed

impossible to see her alone. It was always necessary to hunt round and find some one to take care of Bernice.

Much as Warren worshipped Marjorie, he had to admit that Cousin Bernice was sorta dopeless. She was

pretty, with dark hair and high color, but she was no fun on a party. Every Saturday night he danced a long

arduous duty dance with her to please Marjorie, but he had never been anything but bored in her company.

"Warren"a soft voice at his elbow broke in upon his thoughts, and he turned to see Marjorie, flushed and

radiant as usual. She laid a hand on his shoulder and a glow settled almost imperceptibly over him.

"Warren," she whispered, "do something for medance with Bernice. She's been stuck with little Otis

With a sigh the angel glanced round the veranda, but Bernice and Otis were not in sight. He wandered back

inside, and there in front of the women's dressingroom he found Otis in the centre of a group of young men

who were convulsed with laughter. Otis was brandishing a piece of timber he had picked up, and discoursing

"She's gone in to fix her hair," he announced wildly. "I'm waiting to dance another hour with her."

"Why don't some of you cut in?" cried Otis resentfully. "She likes more variety."

"The twobyfour? Oh, this? This is a club. When she comes out I'll hit her on the head and knock her in

No matter how beautiful or brilliant a girl may be, the reputation of not being frequently cut in on makes her

position at a dance unfortunate. Perhaps boys prefer her company to that of the butterflies with whom they

dance a dozen times an evening, but youth in this jazznourished generation is temperamentally restless, and

the idea of foxtrotting more than one full fox trot with the same girl is distasteful, not to say odious. When it

comes to several dances and the intermissions between she can be quite sure that a young man, once relieved,

Warren danced the next full dance with Bernice, and finally, thankful for the intermission, he led her to a

table on the veranda. There was a moment's silence while she did unimpressive things with her fan.

Warren stifled a sigh and nodded. It might be for all he knew or cared. He wondered idly whether she was a

poor conversationalist because she got no attention or got no attention because she was a poor

"You going to be here much longer?" he asked, and then turned rather red. She might suspect his reasons for

"Another week," she answered, and stared at him as if to lunge at his next remark when it left his lips.

Warren fidgeted. Then with a sudden charitable impulse he decided to try part of his line on her. He turned

This was a remark that he sometimes made to girls at college proms when they were talking in just such half

dark as this. Bernice distinctly jumped. She turned an ungraceful red and became clumsy with her fan. No

"Fresh!"the word had slipped out before she realized it, and she bit her lip. Too late she decided to be

Warren was annoyed. Though not accustomed to have that remark taken seriously, still it usually provoked a

laugh or a paragraph of sentimental banter. And he hated to be called fresh, except in a joking way. His

This was more in Bernice's line, but a faint regret mingled with her relief as the subject changed. Men did not

talk to her about kissable mouths, but she knew that they talked in some such way to other girls.

"Oh, yes," she said, and laughed. "I hear they've been mooning round for years without a red penny.

Warren's disgust increased. Jim Strain was a close friend of his brother's, and anyway he considered it bad

form to sneer at people for not having money. But Bernice had had no intention of sneering. She was merely

When Marjorie and Bernice reached home at half after midnight they said good night at the top of the stairs.

Though cousins, they were not intimates. As a matter of fact Marjorie had no female intimatesshe

considered girls stupid. Bernice on the contrary all through this parentarranged visit had rather longed to

exchange those confidences flavored with giggles and tears that she considered an indispensable factor in all

feminine intercourse. But in this respect she found Marjorie rather cold; felt somehow the same difficulty in

talking to her that she had in talking to men. Marjorie never giggled, was never frightened, seldom

embarrassed, and in fact had very few of the qualities which Bernice considered appropriately and blessedly

As Bernice busied herself with toothbrush and paste this night she wondered for the hundredth time why she

never had any attention when she was away from home. That her family were the wealthiest in Eau Claire;

that her mother entertained tremendously, gave little dinners for her daughter before all dances and bought

her a car of her own to drive round in, never occurred to her as factors in her hometown social success. Like

most girls she had been brought up on the warm milk prepared by Annie Fellows Johnston and on novels in

which the female was beloved because of certain mysterious womanly qualities. always mentioned but never

Bernice felt a vague pain that she was not at present engaged in being popular. She did not know that had it

not been for Marjorie's campaigning she would have danced the entire evening with one man; but she knew

that even in Eau Claire other girls with less position and less pulchritude were given a much bigger rush. She

attributed this to something subtly unscrupulous in those girls. It had never worried her, and if it had her

mother would have assured her that the other girls cheapened themselves and that men really respected girls

She turned out the light in her bathroom, and on an impulse decided to go in and chat for a moment with her

aunt Josephine, whose light was still on. Her soft slippers bore her noiselessly down the carpeted hall, but

hearing voices inside she stopped near the partly opened door. Then she caught her own name, and without

any definite intention of eavesdropping lingeredand the thread of the conversation going on inside pierced

"She's absolutely hopeless!" It was Marjorie's voice. "Oh, I know what you're going to say! So many people

have told you how pretty and sweet she is, and how she can cook! What of it? She has a bum time. Men don't

"It's everything when you're eighteen," said Marjorie emphatically. "I've done my best. I've been polite and

I've made men dance with her, but they just won't stand being bored. When I think of that gorgeous coloring

Mrs. Harvey's voice implied that modern situations were too much for her. When she was a girl all young

"Well," said Marjorie, "no girl can permanently bolster up a lameduck visitor, because these days it's every

girl for herself. I've even tried to drop her hints about clothes and things, and she's been furiousgiven me

the funniest looks. She's sensitive enough to know she's not getting away with much, but I'll bet she consoles

herself by thinking that she's very virtuous and that I'm too gay and fickle and will come to a bad end. All

unpopular girls think that way. Sour grapes! Sarah Hopkins refers to Genevieve and Roberta and me as

gardenia girls! I'll bet she'd give ten years of her life and her European education to be a gardenia girl and

have three or four men in love with her and be cut in on every few feet at dances."

"It seems to me," interrupted Mrs. Harvey rather wearily, "that you ought to be able to do something for

"Vivacious! Good grief! I've never heard her say anything to a boy except that it's hot or the floor's crowded

or that she's going to school in New York next year. Sometimes she asks them what kind of car they have and

"All I know is that other girls not half so sweet and attractive get partners. Martha Carey, for instance, is stout

and loud, and her mother is distinctly common. Roberta Dillon is so thin this year that she looks as though

"But, mother," objected Marjorie impatiently, "Martha is cheerful and awfully witty and an awfully slick girl,

"I think it's that crazy Indian blood in Bernice," continued Marjorie. "Maybe she's a reversion to type. Indian

"Go to bed, you silly child," laughed Mrs. Harvey. "I wouldn't have told you that if I'd thought you were

going to remember it. And I think most of your ideas are perfectly idiotic," she finished sleepily.

There was another silence, while Marjorie considered whether or not convincing her mother was worth the

trouble. People over forty can seldom be permanently convinced of anything. At eighteen our convictions are

Having decided this, Marjorie said good night. When she came out into the hall it was quite empty.

While Marjorie was breakfasting late next day Bernice came into the room with a rather formal good

morning, sat down opposite, stared intently over and slightly moistened her lips.

Marjorie was startled, but she showed only a faintly heightened color and her voice was quite even when she

After an involuntary look of contempt Marjorie dropped her eyes and became very interested in balancing a

"I guess I'd better go back to Eau Claireif I'm such a nuisance." Bernice's lower lip was trembling violently

and she continued on a wavering note: "I've tried to be nice, andand I've been first neglected and then

"But I'm in the way, I see. I'm a drag on you. Your friends don't like me." She paused, and then remembered

another one of her grievances. "Of course I was furious last week when you tried to hint to me that that dress

"I didn't hint anything," said Marjorie succinctly. "I said, as I remember, that it was better to wear a becoming

They stared at each other across the breakfasttable for a moment. Misty waves were passing before

Bernice's eyes, while Marjorie's face wore that rather hard expression that she used when slightly intoxicated

"So you were bluffing," she repeated as if it were what she might have expected.

"You're my cousin," sobbed Bernice. "I'm vvvisiting you. I was to stay a month, and if I go home my

Marjorie waited until the shower of broken words collapsed into little sniffles.

"I'll give you my month's allowance," she said coldly, "and you can spend this last week anywhere you want.

Bernice's sobs rose to a flute note, and rising of a sudden she fled from the room.

An hour later, while Marjorie was in the library absorbed in composing one of those noncommittal,

marvellously elusive letters that only a young girl can write, Bernice reappeared, very redeyed and

consciously calm. She cast no glance at Marjorie but took a book at random from the shelf and sat down as if

to read. Marjorie seemed absorbed in her letter and continued writing. When the clock showed noon Bernice

This was not the beginning of the speech she had rehearsed upstairs, but as Marjorie was not getting her

cueswasn't urging her to be reasonable; it's all a mistakeit was the best opening she could muster.

"Just wait till I finish this letter," said Marjorie without looking round. "I want to get it off in the next mail."

After another minute, during which her pen scratched busily, she turned round and relaxed with an air of "at

"Well," said Marjorie, considering, "I suppose if you're not having a good time you'd better go. No use being

"Oh, please don't quote `Little Women'!" cried Marjorie impatiently. "That's out of style."

"Yes, they werenot! Besides, our mothers were all very well in their way, but they know very little about

"Oh, my Lord!" cried Marjorie in desperation. "You little nut! Girls like you are responsible for all the

tiresome colorless marriages; all those ghastly inefficiencies that pass as feminine qualities. What a blow it

must be when a man with imagination marries the beautiful bundle of clothes that he's been building ideals

round, and finds that she's just a weak, whining, cowardly mass of affectations!"

"The womanly woman!" continued Marjorie. "Her whole early life is occupied in whining criticisms of girls

"There's some excuse for an ugly girl whining. If I'd been irretrievably ugly I'd never have forgiven my

parents for bringing me into the world. But you're starting life without any handicap" Marjorie's little fist

clinched. "If you expect me to weep with you you'll be disappointed. Go or stay, just as you like." And

Bernice claimed a headache and failed to appear at luncheon. They had a matinee date for the afternoon, but

the headache persisting, Marjorie made explanation to a not very downcast boy. But when she returned late in

the afternoon she found Bernice with a strangely set face waiting for her in her bedroom.

"I've decided," began Bernice without preliminaries, "that maybe you're right about thingspossibly not. But

if you'll tell me why your friends aren'taren't interested in me I'll see if I can do what you want me to."

lessons you'll have to do it. Write home and tell your mother you're going to stay another two weeks."

"All rightI'll just give you a few examples now. First, you have no ease of manner. Why? Because you're

never sure about your personal appearance. When a girl feels that she's perfectly groomed and dressed she

can forget that part of her. That's charm. The more parts of yourself you can afford to forget the more charm

"No; for instance, you never take care of your eyebrows. They're black and lustrous, but by leaving them

straggly they're a blemish. They'd be beautiful if you'd take care of them in onetenth the time you take doing

"Yessubconsciously. And when you go home you ought to have your teeth straightened a little. It's almost

"But I thought," interrupted Bernice in bewilderment, "that you despised little dainty feminine things like

"I hate dainty minds," answered Marjorie. "But a girl has to be dainty in person. If she looks like a million

dollars she can talk about Russia, pingpong, or the League of Nations and get away with it."

"No, you don'tyou lean on a man; yes, you doever so slightly. I noticed it when we were dancing

together yesterday. And you dance standing up straight instead of bending over a little. Probably some old

lady on the sideline once told you that you looked so dignified that way. But except with a very small girl

"Well, you've got to learn to be nice to men who are sad birds. You look as if you'd been insulted whenever

you're thrown with any except the most popular boys. Why, Bernice, I'm cut in on every few feetand who

does most of it? Why, those very sad birds. No girl can afford to neglect them. They're the big part of any

crowd. Young boys too shy to talk are the very best conversational practice. Clumsy boys are the best

dancing practice. If you can follow them and yet look graceful you can follow a baby tank across a barbwire

"If you go to a dance and really amuse, say, three sad birds that dance with you; if you talk so well to them

that they forget they're stuck with you, you've done something. They'll come back next time, and gradually so

many sad birds will dance with you that the attractive boys will see there's no danger of being stuckthen

"And finally," concluded Marjorie, "poise and charm will just come. You'll wake up some morning knowing

"It's been awfully kind of youbut nobody's ever talked to me like this before, and I feel sort of startled."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about that. I was considering whether we hadn't better bob your hair."

On the following Wednesday evening there was a dinnerdance at the country club. When the guests strolled

in Bernice found her placecard with a slight feeling of irritation. Though at her right sat G. Reece Stoddard,

a most desirable and distinguished young bachelor, the allimportant left held only Charley Paulson. Charley

lacked height, beauty, and social shrewdness, and in her new enlightenment Bernice decided that his only

qualification to be her partner was that he had never been stuck with her. But this feeling of irritation left with

the last of the soupplates, and Marjorie's specific instruction came to her. Swallowing her pride she turned

"Because I'm considering it. It's such a sure and easy way of attracting attention."

Charley smiled pleasantly. He could not know this had been rehearsed. He replied that he didn't know much

"I want to be a society vampire, you see," she announced coolly, and went on to inform him that bobbed hair

was the necessary prelude. She added that she wanted to ask his advice, because she had heard he was so

Charley, who knew as much about the psychology of women as he did of the mental states of Buddhist

"So I've decided," she continued, her voice rising slightly, "that early next week I'm going down to the Sevier

Hotel barbershop, sit in the first chair, and get my hair bobbed." She faltered, noticing that the people near

her had paused in their conversation and were listening; but after a confused second Marjorie's coaching told,

and she finished her paragraph to the vicinity at large. "Of course I'm charging admission, but if you'll all

There was a ripple of appreciative laughter, and under cover of it G. Reece Stoddard leaned over quickly and

"I think it's unmoral," affirmed Bernice gravely. "But, of course, you've either got to amuse people or feed

'em or shock 'em." Marjorie had culled this from Oscar Wilde. It was greeted with a ripple of laughter from

the men and a series of quick, intent looks from the girls. And then as though she had said nothing of wit or

"I want to ask you your opinion of several people. I imagine you're a wonderful judge of character."

Two hours later, while Warren McIntyre was standing passively in the stag line abstractedly watching the

dancers and wondering whither and with whom Marjorie had disappeared, an unrelated perception began to

creep slowly upon hima perception that Bernice, cousin to Marjorie, had been cut in on several times in the

past five minutes. He closed his eyes, opened them and looked again. Several minutes back she had been

dancing with a visiting boy, a matter easily accounted for; a visiting boy would know no better. But now she

was dancing with some one else, and there was Charley Paulson headed for her with enthusiastic

determination in his eye. FunnyCharley seldom danced with more than three girls an evening.

Warren was distinctly surprised whenthe exchange having been effectedthe man relieved proved to be

none other than G. Reece Stoddard himself. And G. Reece seemed not at all jubilant at being relieved. Next

time Bernice danced near, Warren regarded her intently. Yes, she was pretty, distinctly pretty; and tonight

her face seemed really vivacious. She had that look that no woman, however histrionically proficient, can

successfully counterfeitshe looked as if she were having a good time. He liked the way she had her hair

arranged, wondered if it was brilliantine that made it glisten so. And that dress was becominga dark red

that set off her shadowy eyes and high coloring. He remembered that he had thought her pretty when she first

came to town, before he had realized that she was dull. Too bad she was dulldull girls

His thoughts zigzagged back to Marjorie. This disappearance would be like other disappearances. When she

reappeared he would demand where she had beenwould be told emphatically that it was none of his

business. What a pity she was so sure of him! She basked in the knowledge that no other girl in town

Warren sighed. The way to Marjorie's affections was a labyrinth indeed. He looked up. Bernice was again

dancing with the visiting boy. Half unconsciously he took a step out from the stag line in her direction, and

hesitated. Then he said to himself that it was charity. He walked toward her collided suddenly with G.

That night at one o'clock Marjorie, with one hand on the electriclight switch in the hall, turned to take a last

"I did! The only trouble was that about midnight I ran short of talk. I had to repeat myselfwith different

"Men don't," said Marjorie, yawning, "and it wouldn't matter if they didthey'd think you were even

She snapped out the light, and as they started up the stairs Bernice grasped the banister thankfully. For the

"You see," said Marjorie at the top of the stairs, "one man sees another man cut in and he thinks there must be

As Bernice took down her hair she passed the evening before her in review. She had followed instructions

exactly. Even when Charley Paulson cut in for the eighth time she had simulated delight and had apparently

been both interested and flattered. She had not talked about the weather or Eau Claire or automobiles or her

But a few minutes before she fell asleep a rebellious thought was churning drowsily in her brainafter all, it

was she who had done it. Marjorie, to be sure, had given her her conversation, but then Marjorie got much of

her conversation out of things she read. Bernice had bought the red dress, though she had never valued it

highly before Marjorie dug it out of her trunkand her own voice had said the words, her own lips had

smiled, her own feet had danced. Marjorie nice girlvain, thoughnice eveningnice boyslike

To Bernice the next week was a revelation. With the feeling that people really enjoyed looking at her and

listening to her came the foundation of selfconfidence. Of course there were numerous mistakes at first. She

did not know, for instance, that Draycott Deyo was studying for the ministry; she was unaware that he had cut

in on her because he thought she was a quiet, reserved girl. Had she known these things she would not have

treated him to the line which began "Hello, Shell Shock!" and continued with the bathtub story"It takes a

frightful lot of energy to fix my hair in the summerthere's so much of itso I always fix it first and

powder my face and put on my hat; then I get into the bathtub, and dress afterward. Don't you think that's the

Though Draycott Deyo was in the throes of difficulties concerning baptism by immersion and might possibly

have seen a connection, it must be admitted that he did not. He considered feminine bathing an immoral

But to offset that unfortunate occurrence Bernice had several signal successes to her credit. Little Otis

Ormonde pleaded off from a trip East and elected instead to follow her with a puppylike devotion, to the

amusement of his crowd and to the irritation of G. Reece Stoddard, several of whose afternoon calls Otis

completely ruined by the disgusting tenderness of the glances he bent on Bernice. He even told her the story

of the twobyfour and the dressingroom to show her how frightfully mistaken he and every one else had

been in their first judgment of her. Bernice laughed off that incident with a slight sinking sensation.

Of all Bernice's conversation perhaps the best known and most universally approved was the line about the

"Day after tomorrow maybe," she would reply, laughing. "Will you come and see me? Because I'm counting

Bernice, whose tonsorial intentions were strictly dishonorable, would laugh again.

But perhaps the most significant symbol of her success was the gray car of the hypercritical Warren

McIntyre, parked daily in front of the Harvey house. At first the parlormaid was distinctly startled when he

asked for Bernice instead of Marjorie; after a week of it she told the cook that Miss Bernice had gotta hold a

And Miss Bernice had. Perhaps it began with Warren's desire to rouse jealousy in Marjorie; perhaps it was

the familiar though unrecognized strain of Marjorie in Bernice's conversation; perhaps it was both of these

and something of sincere attraction besides. But somehow the collective mind of the younger set knew within

a week that Marjorie's most reliable beau had made an amazing faceabout and was giving an indisputable

rush to Marjorie's guest. The question of the moment was how Marjorie would take it. Warren called Bernice

on the 'phone twice a day, sent her notes, and they were frequently seen together in his roadster, obviously

engrossed in one of those tense, significant conversations as to whether or not he was sincere.

Marjorie on being twitted only laughed. She said she was mighty glad that Warren had at last found some one

who appreciated him. So the younger set laughed, too, and guessed that Marjorie didn't care and let it go at

One afternoon when there were only three days left of her visit Bernice was waiting in the hall for Warren,

with whom she was going to a bridge party. She was in rather a blissful mood, and when Marjoriealso

bound for the partyappeared beside her and began casually to adjust her hat in the mirror, Bernice was

utterly unprepared for anything in the nature of a clash. Marjorie did her work very coldly and succinctly in

"You may as well stop making a fool of yourself over Warren McIntyre. He doesn't care a snap of his fingers

For a tense moment they regarded each otherMarjorie scornful, aloof; Bernice astounded, halfangry,

halfafraid. Then two cars drove up in front of the house and there was a riotous honking. Both of them

All through the bridge party Bernice strove in vain to master a rising uneasiness. She had offended Marjorie,

the sphinx of sphinxes. With the most wholesome and innocent intentions in the world she had stolen

Marjorie's property. She felt suddenly and horribly guilty. After the bridge game, when they sat in an

informal circle and the conversation became general, the storm gradually broke. Little Otis Ormonde

"Then your education's over," said Marjorie quickly. "That's only a bluff of hers. I should think you'd have

Bernice's ears burned as she tried to think up an effectual comeback. In the face of this direct attack her

"There's a lot of bluffs in the world," continued Marjorie quite pleasantly. "I should think you'd be young

No one seemed to know. In fact, Bernice, having trifled with her muse's beau, had said nothing memorable of

was demanded of her, but under her cousin's suddenly frigid eyes she was completely incapacitated.

Bernice saw that Warren's eyes had left a ukulele he had been tinkering with and were fixed on her

"I like bobbed hair," she said hurriedly, as if he had asked her a question, "and I intend to bob mine."

"Good stuff!" he cried. "We'll have a summer bobbing party. Sevier Hotel barbershop, I think you said."

Four eyesWarren's and Marjorie'sstared at her, challenged her, defied her. For another second she

An eternity of minutes later, riding downtown through the late afternoon beside Warren, the others

following in Roberta's car close behind, Bernice had all the sensations of Marie Antoinette bound for the

guillotine in a tumbrel. Vaguely she wondered why she did not cry out that it was all a mistake. It was all she

could do to keep from clutching her hair with both hands to protect it from the suddenly hostile world. Yet

she did neither. Even the thought of her mother was no deterrent now. This was the test supreme of her

sportsmanship; her right to walk unchallenged in the starry heaven of popular girls.

Warren was moodily silent, and when they came to the hotel he drew up at the curb and nodded to Bernice to

precede him out. Roberta's car emptied a laughing crowd into the shop, which presented two bold plateglass

Bernice stood on the curb and looked at the sign, Sevier BarberShop. It was a guillotine indeed, and the

hangman was the first barber, who, attired in a white coat and smoking a cigarette, leaned nonchalantly

against the first chair. He must have heard of her; he must have been waiting all week, smoking eternal

cigarettes beside that portentous, toooftenmentioned first chair. Would they blindfold her? No, but they

would tie a white cloth round her neck lest any of her bloodnonsensehairshould get on her clothes.

With her chin in the air she crossed the sidewalk, pushed open the swinging screendoor, and giving not a

glance to the uproarious, riotous row that occupied the waiting bench, went up to the first barber.

The first barber's mouth slid somewhat open. His cigarette dropped to the floor.

Refusing further preliminaries, Bernice took her seat on high. A man in the chair next to her turned on his

side and gave her a glance, half lather, half amazement. One barber started and spoiled little Willy

Schuneman's monthly haircut. Mr. O'Reilly in the last chair grunted and swore musically in ancient Gaelic as

a razor bit into his cheek. Two bootblacks became wideeyed and rushed for her feet. No, Bernice didn't care

Outside a passerby stopped and stared; a couple joined him; half a dozen small boys' noses sprang into life,

flattened against the glass; and snatches of conversation borne on the summer breeze drifted in through the

But Bernice saw nothing, heard nothing. Her only living sense told her that this man in the white coat had

removed one tortoiseshell comb and then another; that his fingers were fumbling clumsily with unfamiliar

hairpins; that this hair, this wonderful hair of hers, was goingshe would never again feel its long

voluptuous pull as it hung in a darkbrown glory down her back. For a second she was near breaking down,

and then the picture before her swam mechanically into her visionMarjorie's mouth curling in a faint ironic

"Give up and get down! You tried to buck me and I called your bluff. You see you haven't got a prayer."

And some last energy rose up in Bernice, for she clinched her hands under the white cloth, and there was a

curious narrowing of her eyes that Marjorie remarked on to some one long afterward.

Twenty minutes later the barber swung her round to face the mirror, and she flinched at the full extent of the

damage that had been wrought. Her hair was not curly, and now it lay in lank lifeless blocks on both sides of

her suddenly pale face. It was ugly as sinshe had known it would be ugly as sin. Her face's chief charm had

been a Madonnalike simplicity. Now that was gone and she waswell, frightfully mediocrenot stagy;

As she climbed down from the chair she tried to smilefailed miserably. She saw two of the girls exchange

glances; noticed Marjorie's mouth curved in attenuated mockeryand that Warren's eyes were suddenly very

There was a halfhearted "Sure" from two or three voices, another awkward pause, and then Marjorie turned

"Would you mind running me down to the cleaners?" she asked. "I've simply got to get a dress there before

Warren stared abstractedly at some infinite speck out the window. Then for an instant his eyes rested coldly

Bernice did not fully realize the outrageous trap that had been set for her until she met her aunt's amazed

"No, but what'll Mrs. Deyo think tomorrow night? Bernice, you should have waited until after the Deyos'

"It was sudden, Aunt Josephine. Anyway, why does it matter to Mrs. Deyo particularly?"

"Why, child," cried Mrs. Harvey, "in her paper on `The Foibles of the Younger Generation' that she read at

the last meeting of the Thursday Club she devoted fifteen minutes to bobbed hair. It's her pet abomination.

Dinner was an agony. She had made a hasty attempt with a curlingiron, and burned her finger and much

hair. She could see that her aunt was both worried and grieved, and her uncle kept saying, "Well, I'll be

darned!" over and over in a hurt and faintly hostile tone. And Marjorie sat very quietly, intrenched behind a

Somehow she got through the evening. Three boys called; Marjorie disappeared with one of them, and

Bernice made a listless unsuccessful attempt to entertain the two otherssighed thankfully as she climbed

"Bernice," she said, "I'm awfully sorry about the Deyo dance. I'll give you my word of honor I'd forgotten all

"'Sall right," said Bernice shortly. Standing before the mirror she passed her comb slowly through her short

"I'll take you downtown tomorrow," continued Marjorie, "and the hairdresser'll fix it so you'll look slick. I

Then Bernice winced as Marjorie tossed her own hair over her shoulders and began to twist it slowly into two

long blond braids until in her creamcolored neglig�e she looked like a delicate painting of some Saxon

princess. Fascinated, Bernice watched the braids grow. Heavy and luxurious they were, moving under the

supple fingers like restive snakesand to Bernice remained this relic and the curlingiron and a tomorrow

full of eyes. She could see G. Reece Stoddard, who liked her, assuming his Harvard manner and telling his

dinner partner that Bernice shouldn't have been allowed to go to the movies so much; she could see Draycott

Deyo exchanging glances with his mother and then being conscientiously charitable to her. But then perhaps

by tomorrow Mrs. Deyo would have heard the news; would send round an icy little note requesting that she

fail to appearand behind her back they would all laugh and know that Marjorie had made a fool of her; that

her chance at beauty had been sacrificed to the jealous whim of a selfish girl. She sat down suddenly before

But as the door closed something snapped within Bernice. She sprang dynamically to her feet, clinching her

hands, then swiftly and noiselessly crossed over to her bed and from underneath it dragged out her suitcase.

Into it she tossed toilet articles and a change of clothing. Then she turned to her trunk and quickly dumped in

two drawerfuls of lingerie and summer dresses. She moved quietly, but with deadly efficiency, and in

threequarters of an hour her trunk was locked and strapped and she was fully dressed in a becoming new

Sitting down at her desk she wrote a short note to Mrs. Harvey, in which she briefly outlined her reasons for

going. She sealed it, addressed it, and laid it on her pillow. She glanced at her watch. The train left at one, and

she knew that if she walked down to the Marborough Hotel two blocks away she could easily get a taxicab.

Suddenly she drew in her breath sharply and an expression flashed into her eyes that a practised character

reader might have connected vaguely with the set look she had worn in the barber's chair somehow a

development of it. It was quite a new look for Bernice and it carried consequences.

She went stealthily to the bureau, picked up an article that lay there, and turning out all the lights stood

quietly until her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. Softly she pushed open the door to Marjorie's

She was by the bedside now, very deliberate and calm. She acted swiftly. Bending over she found one of the

braids of Marjorie's hair, followed it up with her hand to the point nearest the head, and then holding it a little

slack so that the sleeper would feel no pull, she reached down with the shears and severed it. With the pigtail

in her hand she held her breath. Marjorie had muttered something in her sleep. Bernice deftly amputated the

other braid, paused for an instant, and then flitted swiftly and silently back to her own room.

Downstairs she opened the big front door, closed it carefully behind her, and feeling oddly happy and

exuberant stepped off the porch into the moonlight, swinging her heavy grip like a shoppingbag. After a

minute's brisk walk she discovered that her left hand still held the two blond braids. She laughed

unexpectedlyhad to shut her mouth hard to keep from emitting an absolute peal. She was passing Warren's

house now, and on the impulse she set down her baggage, and swinging the braids like pieces of rope flung

them at the wooden porch, where they landed with a slight thud. She laughed again, no longer restraining

The glazed eye of the tired reader resting for a second on the above title will presume it to be merely

metaphorical. Stories about the cup and the lip and the bad penny and the new broom rarely have anything to

do with cups or lips or pennies or brooms. This story is the exception. It has to do with a material, visible and

Starting from the neck we shall work toward the tail. I want you to meet Mr. Perry Parkhurst, twentyeight,

lawyer, native of Toledo. Perry has nice teeth, a Harvard diploma, parts his hair in the middle. You have met

him beforein Cleveland, Portland, St. Paul, Indianapolis, Kansas City, and so forth. Baker Brothers, New

York, pause on their semiannual trip through the West to clothe him; Montmorency & Co. dispatch a young

man posthaste every three months to see that he has the correct number of little punctures on his shoes. He

has a domestic roadster now, will have a French roadster if he lives long enough, and doubtless a Chinese

tank if it comes into fashion. He looks like the advertisement of the young man rubbing his sunsetcolored

I want you to meet his Love. Her name is Betty Medill, and she would take well in the movies. Her father

gives her three hundred a month to dress on, and she has tawny eyes and hair and feather fans of five colors. I

shall also introduce her father, Cyrus Medill. Though he is to all appearances flesh and blood, he is, strange to

say, commonly known in Toledo as the Aluminum Man. But when he sits in his club window with two or

three Iron Men, and the White Pine Man, and the Brass Man, they look very much as you and I do, only more

Now during the Christmas holidays of 1919 there took place in Toledo, counting only the people with the

italicized the, fortyone dinner parties, sixteen dances, six luncheons, male and female, twelve teas, four stag

dinners, two weddings, and thirteen bridge parties. It was the cumulative effect of all this that moved Perry

This Medill girl would marry him and she wouldn't marry him. She was having such a good time that she

hated to take such a definite step. Meanwhile, their secret engagement had got so long that it seemed as if any

day it might break off of its own weight. A little man named Warburton, who knew it all, persuaded Perry to

superman her, to get a marriage license and go up to the Medill house and tell her she'd have to marry him at

once or call it off forever. So he presented himself, his heart, his license, and his ultimatum, and within five

minutes they were in the midst of a violent quarrel, a burst of sporadic open fighting such as occurs near the

end of all long wars and engagements. It brought about one of those ghastly lapses in which two people who

are in love pull up sharp, look at each other coolly and think it's all been a mistake. Afterward they usually

kiss wholesomely and assure the other person it was all their fault. Say it all was my fault! Say it was! I want

But while reconciliation was trembling in the air, while each was, in a measure, stalling it off, so that they

might the more voluptuously and sentimentally enjoy it when it came, they were permanently interrupted by

a twentyminute phone call for Betty from a garrulous aunt. At the end of eighteen minutes Perry Parkhurst,

urged on by pride and suspicion and injured dignity, put on his long fur coat, picked up his light brown soft

"It's all over," he muttered brokenly as he tried to jam his car into first. "It's all overif I have to choke you

for an hour, damn you!" This last to the car, which had been standing some time and was quite cold.

He drove downtownthat is, he got into a snow rut that led him downtown. He sat slouched down very low

In front of the Clarendon Hotel he was hailed from the sidewalk by a bad man named Baily, who had big

"Perry," said the bad man softly when the roadster drew up beside him at the curb, "I've got six quarts of the

doggonedest still champagne you ever tasted. A third of it's yours, Perry, if you'll come upstairs and help

"Baily," said Perry tensely, "I'll drink your champagne. I'll drink every drop of it. I don't care if it kills me."

"Shut up, you nut!" said the bad man gently. "They don't put wood alcohol in champagne. This is the stuff

that proves the world is more than six thousand years old. It's so ancient that the cork is petrified. You have to

"Take me upstairs," said Perry moodily. "If that cork sees my heart it'll fall out from pure mortification."

The room upstairs was full of those innocent hotel pictures of little girls eating apples and sitting in swings

and talking to dogs. The other decorations were neckties and a pink man reading a pink paper devoted to

"When you have to go into the highways and byways" said the pink man, looking reproachfully at Baily

Baily leisurely opened the door of a wardrobe and brought out six handsome bottles.

"Take off that darn fur coat!" said Martin Macy to Perry. "Or maybe you'd like to have us open all the

"Oh, I'm sick of parties," exclaimed Perry. "I'm sick of 'em. I've been to so many that I'm sick of 'em."

"I thought you'd be going to one of 'em anyways. I see by the papers you haven't missed a one this Christmas."

He would never go to any more parties. Classical phrases played in his mindthat side of his life was

closed, closed. Now when a man says "closed, closed" like that, you can be pretty sure that some woman has

doubleclosed him, so to speak. Perry was also thinking that other classical thought, about how cowardly

suicide is. A noble thought that onewarm and inspiring. Think of all the fine men we should lose if suicide

An hour later was six o'clock, and Perry had lost all resemblance to the young man in the liniment

advertisement. He looked like a rough draft for a riotous cartoon. They were singingan impromptu song of

"Trouble is," said Perry, who had just banged his hair with Baily's comb and was tying an orange tie round it

to get the effect of Julius Csar, "that you fellas can't sing worth a damn. Soon's I leave th' air and start singin'

"'M a natural tenor," said Macy gravely. "Voice lacks cultivation, tha's all. Gotta natural voice, m'aunt used

"Singers, singers, all good singers," remarked Baily, who was at the telephone. "No, not the cabaret; I want

"Julius Csar," announced Perry, turning round from the mirror. "Man of iron will and stern 'termination."

"Shut up!" yelled Baily. "Say, iss Mr. Baily. Sen' up enormous supper. Use y'own judgment. Right away."

He connected the receiver and the hook with some difficulty, and then with his lips closed and an expression

of solemn intensity in his eyes went to the lower drawer of his dresser and pulled it open.

"Lookit!" he commanded. In his hands he held a truncated garment of pink gingham.

"Lookit!" he repeated. "Costume for the Townsends' circus ball. I'm li'l' boy carries water for the elephants."

"Csar!" scoffed Baily. "Can't be Csar! He is not about a circus. Csar's Shakespeare. Go as a clown."

"Sure, tha's all I need. Csar was a savage. They can't kick if I come as Csar, if he was a savage."

"No," said Baily, shaking his head slowly. "Get a costume over at a costumer's. Over at Nolak's."

After a puzzling five minutes at the phone a small, weary voice managed to convince Perry that it was Mr.

Nolak speaking, and that they would remain open until eight because of the Townsends' ball. Thus assured,

Perry ate a great amount of filet mignon and drank his third of the last bottle of champagne. At eightfifteen

the man in the tall hat who stands in front of the Clarendon found him trying to start his roadster.

"Nope. Let it stand here till summer. One those hot ole August days'll thaw it out awright."

Mrs. Nolak was short and ineffectual looking, and on the cessation of the world war had belonged for a while

to one of the new nationalities. Owing to unsettled European conditions she had never since been quite sure

what she was. The shop in which she and her husband performed their daily stint was dim and ghostly, and

peopled with suits of armor and Chinese mandarins, and enormous papiermch birds suspended from the

ceiling. In a vague background many rows of masks glared eyelessly at the visitor, and there were glass cases

full of crowns and scepters, and jewels and enormous stomachers, and paints, and crape hair, and wigs of all

When Perry ambled into the shop Mrs. Nolak was folding up the last troubles of a strenuous day, so she

Mrs. Nolak was sorry, but every stitch of charioteer had been rented long ago. Was it for the Townsends'

"Sorry," she said, "but I don't think there's anything left that's really circus."

"Hm," said Perry. An idea struck him suddenly. "If you've got a piece of canvas I could go's a tent."

"Sorry, but we haven't anything like that. A hardware store is where you'd have to go to. We have some very

"Several of the gentlemen," she continued hopefully, "are wearing stovepipe hats and swallowtail coats and

going as ringmastersbut we're all out of tall hats. I can let you have some crape hair for a mustache."

The camel was produced from his resting place on a top shelf. At first glance he appeared to consist entirely

of a very gaunt, cadaverous head and a sizable hump, but on being spread out he was found to possess a dark

"You see it takes two people," explained Mrs. Nolak, holding the camel in frank admiration. "If you have a

friend he could be part of it. You see there's sorta pants for two people. One pair is for the fella in front, and

the other pair for the fella in back. The fella in front does the lookin' out through these here eyes, an' the fella

Obediently Mrs. Nolak put her tabbycat face inside the camel's head and turned it from side to side

"What?" asked Mrs. Nolak as her face emerged, somewhat smudgy. "Oh, what noise? Why, he sorta brays."

Before a wide mirror Perry tried on the head and turned from side to side appraisingly. In the dim light the

effect was distinctly pleasing. The camel's face was a study in pessimism, decorated with numerous

abrasions, and it must be admitted that his coat was in that state of general negligence peculiar to camelsin

fact, he needed to be cleaned and pressedbut distinctive he certainly was. He was majestic. He would have

attracted attention in any gathering, if only by his melancholy cast of feature and the look of hunger lurking

Perry tentatively gathered up the body and legs and wrapped them about him, tying the hind legs as a girdle

round his waist. The effect on the whole was bad. It was even irreverentlike one of those medival pictures

of a monk changed into a beast by the ministrations of Satan. At the very best the ensemble resembled a

"Oh, come on," said Perry encouragingly. "Sure you can. Here! Be good sport, and climb into these hind

With difficulty he located them, and extended their yawning depths ingratiatingly. But Mrs. Nolak seemed

"Now you just stop!" she said with no coyness implied. "None of the gentlemen ever acted up this way

After considerable parley he obtained the telephone number pertaining to the Nolak penates and got into

communication with that small, weary voice he had heard once before that day. But Mr. Nolak, though taken

off his guard and somewhat confused by Perry's brilliant flow of logic, stuck staunchly to his point. He

refused firmly, but with dignity, to help out Mr. Parkhurst in the capacity of back part of a camel.

Having rung off, or rather having been rung off on, Perry sat down on a threelegged stool to think it over.

He named over to himself those friends on whom he might call, and then his mind paused as Betty Medill's

name hazily and sorrowfully occurred to him. He had a sentimental thought. He would ask her. Their love

affair was over, but she could not refuse this last request. Surely it was not much to askto help him keep up

his end of social obligation for one short night. And if she insisted, she could be the front part of the camel

and he would go as the back. His magnanimity pleased him. His mind even turned to rosycolored dreams of

a tender reconciliation inside the camelthere hidden away from all the world. . . .

The bourgeois voice of Mrs. Nolak broke in upon his mellow fancies and roused him to action. He went to

the phone and called up the Medill house. Miss Betty was out; had gone out to dinner.

Then, when all seemed lost, the camel's back wandered curiously into the store. He was a dilapidated

individual with a cold in his head and a general trend about him of downwardness. His cap was pulled down

low on his head, and his chin was pulled down low on his chest, his coat hung down to his shoes, he looked

rundown, down at the heels, andSalvation Army to the contrarydown and out. He said that he was the

taxicabdriver that the gentleman had hired at the Clarendon Hotel. He had been instructed to wait outside,

but he had waited some time, and a suspicion had grown upon him that the gentleman had gone out the back

way with purpose to defraud himgentlemen sometimes didso he had come in. He sank down onto the

"Come on!" urged Perry. "Be a good fella. Seeit's pretty!" He held the camel up and the taxidriver looked

"See!" he cried enthusiastically, holding up a selection of folds. "This is your part. You don't even have to

talk. All you have to do is to walkand sit down occasionally. You do all the sitting down. Think of it. I'm

on my feet all the time and you can sit down some of the time. The only time I can sit down is when we're

Then Perry mentioned a sum of money, and the conversation left the land of grunts and assumed a practical

"You can't see it," explained Perry, peering anxiously out through the eye holes, "but honestly, ole man, you

"Honestly, you look great!" repeated Perry enthusiastically. "Move round a little."

The hind legs moved forward, giving the effect of a huge catcamel hunching his back preparatory to a

The camel's hips went neatly out of joint; a hula dancer would have writhed in envy.

This presented a new problem. Perry tried to remember, but the names of all those who had given parties

during the holidays danced confusedly before his eyes. He could ask Mrs. Nolak, but on looking out the

window he saw that the shop was dark. Mrs. Nolak had already faded out, a little black smudge far down the

"Drive uptown," directed Perry with fine confidence. "If you see a party, stop. Otherwise I'll tell you when we

He fell into a hazy daydream and his thoughts wandered again to Bettyhe imagined vaguely that they had

had a disagreement because she refused to go to the party as the back part of the camel. He was just slipping

off into a chilly doze when he was wakened by the taxidriver opening the door and shaking him by the arm.

Perry looked out sleepily. A striped awning led from the curb up to a spreading gray stone house, from which

issued the low drummy whine of expensive jazz. He recognized the Howard Tate house.

"Sure," he said emphatically; "'at's it! Tate's party tonight. Sure, everybody's goin'."

"Say," said the individual anxiously after another look at the awning, "you sure these people ain't gonna romp

The visualization of himself as a thing rather than a person seemed to reassure the individual.

Perry stepped out under the shelter of the awning and began unrolling the camel.

Several minutes later a melancholy, hungrylooking camel, emitting clouds of smoke from his mouth and

from the tip of his noble hump, might have been seen crossing the threshhold of the Howard Tate residence,

passing a startled footman without so much as a snort, and heading directly for the main stairs that led up to

the ballroom. The beast walked with a peculiar gait which varied between an uncertain lockstep and a

stampedebut can best be described by the word "halting." The camel had a halting gaitand as he walked

The Howard Tates are, as every one who lives in Toledo knows, the most formidable people in town. Mrs.

Howard Tate was a Chicago Todd before she became a Toledo Tate, and the family generally affect that

conscious simplicity which has begun to be the earmark of American aristocracy. The Tates have reached the

stage where they talk about pigs and farms and look at you icyeyed if you are not amused. They have begun

to prefer retainers rather than friends as dinner guests, spend a lot of money in a quiet way, and, having lost

The dance this evening was for little Millicent Tate, and though all ages were represented, the dancers were

mostly from school and collegethe younger married crowd was at the Townsends' circus ball up at the

Tallyho Club. Mrs. Tate was standing just inside the ballroom, following Millicent round with her eyes, and

beaming whenever she caught her eye. Beside her were two middleaged sycophants, who were saying what

a perfectly exquisite child Millicent was. It was at this moment that Mrs. Tate was grasped firmly by the skirt

and her youngest daughter, Emily, aged eleven, hurled herself with an "Oof!" into her mother's arms.

"Mamma," said Emily, wildeyed but voluble, "there's something out on the stairs."

"There's a thing out on the stairs, mamma. I think it's a big dog, mamma, but it doesn't look like a dog."

"No, I didn't. No, it was some kind of thing, mammabig. I was going downstairs to see if there were any

more people, and this dog or something, he was coming upstairs. Kind a funny, mamma, like he was lame.

And then he saw me and gave a sort of growl, and then he slipped at the top of the landing, and I ran."

The sycophants agreed that the child must have seen somethingand suddenly all three women took an

instinctive step away from the door as the sounds of muffled steps were audible just outside.

And then three startled gasps rang out as a dark brown form rounded the corner, and they saw what was

The dancing stopped, but the dancers hurrying over got quite a different impression of the invader; in fact, the

young people immediately suspected that it was a stunt, a hired entertainer come to amuse the party. The

boys in long trousers looked at it rather disdainfully, and sauntered over with their hands in their pockets,

feeling that their intelligence was being insulted. But the girls uttered little shouts of glee.

The camel stood there uncertainly, swaying slightly from side to side, and seeming to take in the room in a

careful, appraising glance; then as if he had come to an abrupt decision he turned and ambled swiftly out the

Mr. Howard Tate had just come out of the library on the lower floor, and was standing chatting with a young

man in the hall. Suddenly they heard the noise of shouting upstairs, and almost immediately a succession of

bumping sounds, followed by the precipitous appearance at the foot of the stairway of a large brown beast

The beast picked itself up not without dignity and, affecting an air of extreme nonchalance, as if he had just

remembered an important engagement, started at a mixed gait toward the front door. In fact, his front legs

The young man enveloped the rear of the camel in a pair of compelling arms, and, realizing that further

locomotion was impossible, the front end submitted to capture and stood resignedly in a state of some

agitation. By this time a flood of young people was pouring downstairs, and Mr. Tate, suspecting everything

from an ingenious burglar to an escaped lunatic, gave crisp directions to the young man:

The camel consented to be led into the library, and Mr. Tate, after locking the door, took a revolver from a

table drawer and instructed the young man to take the thing's head off. Then he gasped and returned the

"Got the wrong party, Mr. Tate," said Perry sheepishly. "Hope I didn't scare you."

"Wellyou gave us a thrill, Perry." Realization dawned on him. "You're bound for the Townsends' circus

"Let me introduce Mr. Butterfield, Mr. Parkhurst." Then turning to Perry: "Butterfield is staying with us for a

"Perfectly all right; most natural mistake in the world. I've got a clown rig and I'm going down there myself

after a while." He turned to Butterfield. "Better change your mind and come down with us."

"And, say," continued Tate quickly, "I'd forgotten all about yourfriend here." He indicated the rear part of

the camel. "I didn't mean to seem discourteous. Is it any one I know? Bring him out."

"Sure he does!" said Mr. Tate heartily. "A really efficient camel ought to be able to drink enough so it'd last

"Tell you," said Perry anxiously, "he isn't exactly dressed up enough to come out. If you give me the bottle I

From under the cloth was audible the enthusiastic smacking sound inspired by this suggestion. When a butler

had appeared with bottles, glasses, and siphon one of the bottles was handed back; thereafter the silent partner

Thus passed a benign hour. At ten o'clock Mr. Tate decided that they'd better be starting. He donned his

clown's costume; Perry replaced the camel's head, and side by side they traversed on foot the single block

The circus ball was in full swing. A great tent fly had been put up inside the ballroom and round the walls had

been built rows of booths representing the various attractions of a circus side show, but these were now

vacated and over the floor swarmed a shouting, laughing medley of youth and colorclowns, bearded ladies,

acrobats, bareback riders, ringmasters, tattooed men, and charioteers. The Townsends had determined to

assure their party of success, so a great quantity of liquor had been surreptitiously brought over from their

house and was now flowing freely. A green ribbon ran along the wall completely round the ballroom, with

pointing arrows alongside and signs which instructed the uninitiated to "Follow the green line!" The green

line led down to the bar, where waited pure punch and wicked punch and plain darkgreen bottles.

On the wall above the bar was another arrow, red and very wavy, and under it the slogan: "Now follow this!"

But even amid the luxury of costume and high spirits represented there, the entrance of the camel created

something of a stir, and Perry was immediately surrounded by a curious, laughing crowd attempting to

penetrate the identity of this beast that stood by the wide doorway eying the dancers with his hungry,

And then Perry saw Betty standing in front of a booth, talking to a comic policeman. She was dressed in the

costume of an Egyptian snakecharmer: her tawny hair was braided and drawn through brass rings, the effect

crowned with a glittering Oriental tiara. Her fair face was stained to a warm olive glow and on her arms and

the half moon of her back writhed painted serpents with single eyes of venomous green. Her feet were in

sandals and her skirt was slit to the knees, so that when she walked one caught a glimpse of other slim

serpents painted just above her bare ankles. Wound about her neck was a glittering cobra. Altogether a

charming costumeone that caused the more nervous among the older women to shrink away from her

when she passed, and the more troublesome ones to make great talk about "shouldn't be allowed" and

But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only her face, radiant, animated, and glowing

with excitement, and her arms and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the

outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination exercised a sobering effect on him.

With a growing clarity the events of the day came backrage rose within him, and with a halfformed

intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward heror rather he elongated slightly, for he

But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him bitterly and sardonically, decided to

reward him in full for the amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the

snakecharmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man beside her and say, "Who's that? That

But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary to hazard an opinion:

"It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it's probably Warren Butterfield, the architect from New York,

Something stirred in Betty Medillthat ageold interest of the provincial girl in the visiting man.

At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within a few feet of the camel. With the

informal audacity that was the keynote of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel's nose.

"You 'fraid of me?" said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. "Don't be. You see I'm a snakecharmer, but

The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about beauty and the beast.

"Oh," said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite unrecognizable, "he isn't a fellow, Mrs.

"So," he thought, "this is how much she cares! On the very day of our final rupture she starts a flirtation with

On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his head suggestively toward the hall,

"Byby, Rus," she called to her partner. "This old camel's got me. Where we going, Prince of Beasts?"

The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the direction of a secluded nook on the side

There she seated herself, and the camel, after some seconds of confusion which included gruff orders and

sounds of a heated dispute going on in his interior, placed himself beside herhis hind legs stretching out

The old egg indicated that he liked it by rolling his head ecstatically and executing a gleeful kick with his

"This is the first time that I ever had a ttette with a man's valet 'round"she pointed to the hind legs"or

"I should think you'd feel rather handicappedyou can't very well toddle, even if you want to."

"I wish you'd say something," continued Betty sweetly. "Say you like me, camel. Say you think I'm beautiful.

Betty devoted half an hour to the camel. She devoted at least half an hour to all visiting men. It was usually

sufficient. When she approached a new man the current dbutantes were accustomed to scatter right and left

like a close column deploying before a machinegun. And so to Perry Parkhurst was awarded the unique

This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by the sounds of a general ingress to the ballroom; the

cotillion was beginning. Betty and the camel joined the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his

When they entered the couples were already seating themselves at tables round the walls, and Mrs.

Townsend, resplendent as a super bareback rider with rather too rotund calves, was standing in the centre

with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At a signal to the band every one rose and began to dance.

Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly exuberant. After all, he was here incognito talking to his

So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that is stretching the word far beyond the wildest dreams of

the jazziest terpsichorean. He suffered his partner to put her hands on his helpless shoulders and pull him here

and there over the floor while he hung his huge head docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy

motions with his feet. His hind legs danced in a manner all their own, chiefly by hopping first on one foot and

then on the other. Never being sure whether dancing was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by going

through a series of steps whenever the music started playing. So the spectacle was frequently presented of the

front part of the camel standing at ease and the rear keeping up a constant energetic motion calculated to

He was frequently favored. He danced first with a tall lady covered with straw who announced jovially that

Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men up!" he lumbered ferociously for Betty with the cardboard

wienerwurst or the photograph of the bearded lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes he

reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful and resulted in intense interior arguments.

"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl fiercely between his clenched teeth, "get a little pep! I could have

"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like draging a load of sand round to walk with you."

"You shut up! If these people found you in this room they'd give you the worst beating you ever had. They'd

Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he made this monstrous threat, but it seemed to have a

soporific influence on his companion, for he gave out an "aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence.

Selfconsciously the circle swayed forward. The rather pretty girl who had mustered the nerve to come as a

bearded lady trembled with excitement, thinking to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The man who

had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted on him skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing

"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced the ringmaster jovially, "I am sure we will all agree that

a good time has been had by all. We will now bestow honor where honor is due by bestowing the prizes. Mrs.

Townsend has asked me to bestow the prizes. Now, fellow performers, the first prize is for that lady who has

displayed this evening the most striking, becoming"at this point the bearded lady sighed resignedly"and

original costume." Here the bale of hay pricked up her ears. "Now I am sure that the decision which has been

agreed upon will be unanimous with all here present. The first prize goes to Miss Betty Medill, the charming

There was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine, and Miss Betty Medill, blushing beautifully through her

olive paint, was passed up to receive her award. With a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a

"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the other prize is for that man who has the most amusing and

original costume. This prize goes without dispute to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is visiting here but

whose stay we all hope will be long and merryin short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by his

He ceased and there was a violent clapping and yeaing, for it was a popular choice. The prize, a large box of

cigars, was put aside for the camel, as he was anatomically unable to accept it in person.

"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will wind up the cotillion with the marriage of Mirth to Folly!"

"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful snakecharmer and the noble camel in front!"

Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive arm round the camel's neck. Behind them formed the

procession of little boys, little girls, country jakes, fat ladies, thin men, swordswallowers, wild men of

Borneo, and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups, all of them excited and happy and dazzled by

the flow of light and color round them, and by the familiar faces, strangely unfamiliar under bizarre wigs and

barbaric paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding march done in blasphemous syncopation issued in a

"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly as they stepped off. "Aren't you glad we're going to be

"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried voices out of the revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?"

The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tallyho Club for many years, appeared rashly through a

Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his apron, and escorted to a raised das at the head of the

ball. There his collar was removed and replaced back side forward with ecclesiastical effect. The parade

Together the snakecharmer and the camel ascended the cheering aisle and stopped in front of Jumbo.

Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a folded paper, and pushed it out through the camel's mouth.

There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of rhinestone and brass inserted into his hand.

He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone, and even in this burlesque the sound thrilled him.

Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear in the camel's coat and was slipping it on her finger,

muttering ancient and historic words after Jumbo. He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His one

idea was to slip away without having to disclose his identity, for Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret well. A

Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to him laughingly and began to stroke the cardboard muzzle.

He felt his selfcontrol giving way, he longed to surround her with his arms and declare his identity and kiss

those lips that smiled only a foot awaywhen suddenly the laughter and applause round them died off and a

curious hush fell over the hall. Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo had given vent to a huge

"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the camel's marriage license, which he had been holding upside

"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence his words were heard plainly by every one in the room,

Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood burned to fire in his veins as he realized the break he had

"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a shonuff license, and the pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis yeah

There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out as all eyes fell on the camel. Betty shrank away from

Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer and stared at him. He stood frozen rigid with

embarrassment, his cardboard face still hungry and sardonic as he regarded the ominous Jumbo.

"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly, "this yeah's a mighty serious mattah. Outside mah duties at this

club ah happens to be a shonuff minister in the Firs' Cullud Baptis' Church. It done look to me as though

The scene that followed will go down forever in the annals of the Tallyho Club. Stout matrons fainted, one

hundred per cent Americans swore, wildeyed dbutantes babbled in lightning groups instantly formed and

instantly dissolved, and a great buzz of chatter, virulent yet oddly subdued, hummed through the chaotic

ballroom. Feverish youths swore they would kill Perry or Jumbo or themselves or some one, and the Baptis'

preacheh was besieged by a tempestuous covey of clamorous amateur lawyers, asking questions, making

threats, demanding precedents, ordering the bonds annulled, and especially trying to ferret out any hint of

In the corner Mrs. Townsend was crying softly on the shoulder of Mr. Howard Tate, who was trying vainly to

comfort her; they were exchanging "all my fault's" volubly and voluminously. Outside on a snowcovered

walk Mr. Cyrus Medill, the Aluminum Man, was being paced slowly up and down between two brawny

charioteers, giving vent now to a string of unrepeatables, now to wild pleadings that they'd just let him get at

Jumbo. He was facetiously attired for the evening as a wild man of Borneo, and the most exacting

stagemanager would have acknowledged any improvement in casting the part to be quite impossible.

Meanwhile the two principals held the real centre of the stage. Betty Medillor was it Betty

Parkhurst?storming furiously, was surrounded by the plainer girlsthe prettier ones were too busy talking

about her to pay much attention to herand over on the other side of the hall stood the camel, still intact

except for his headpiece, which dangled pathetically on his chest. Perry was earnestly engaged in making

protestations of his innocence to a ring of angry, puzzled men. Every few minutes, just as he had apparently

proved his case, some one would mention the marriage certificate, and the inquisition would begin again.

A girl named Marion Cloud, considered the second best belle of Toledo, changed the gist of the situation by a

"Well," she said maliciously, "it'll all blow over, dear. The courts will annul it without question."

Betty's angry tears dried miraculously in her eyes, her lips shut tight together, and she looked stonily at

Marion. Then she rose and, scattering her sympathizers right and left, walked directly across the room to

"Will you have the decency to grant me five minutes' conversationor wasn't that included in your plans?"

Indicating coldly that he was to follow her she walked out into the hall with her chin up tilted and headed for

Perry started after her, but was brought to a jerky halt by the failure of his hind legs to function.

"I can't," whined a voice from the hump, "unless you get out first and let me get out."

Perry hesitated, but unable any longer to tolerate the eyes of the curious crowd he muttered a command and

"Well," she began furiously, "you see what you've done! You and that crazy license! I told you you shouldn't

"Don't say `dear girl' to me! Save that for your real wife if you ever get one after this disgraceful

performance. And don't try to pretend it wasn't all arranged. You know you gave that colored waiter money!

"Yes, you'd better admit it! You tried it, and now what are you going to do? Do you know my father's nearly

crazy? It'll serve you right if he tries to kill you. He'll take his gun and put some cold steel in you. Even if this

Perry could not resist quoting softly: "`Oh, camel, wouldn't you like to belong to the pretty snakecharmer

"Betty," said Perry finally, "there's only one thing to do that will really get us out clear. That's for you to

"I know. If I were the last man on earth. But if you care anything about your reputation"

"Reputation!" she cried. " You're a nice one to think about my reputation now. Why didn't you think about

In a minute Perry had whipped off the camel's skin, and a lax, limp object, his clothes hanging on him

damply, his hand clenched tightly on an almost empty bottle, stood defiantly before them.

"Oh," cried Betty, "you brought that object in here to frighten me! You told me he was deafthat awful

"Why, sure. I'm as much your husband as that gink is. The smoke didn't marry you to the camel's front. He

With a little yelp she snatched the ring from her finger and flung it passionately at the floor.

"Jes' that you better fix me an' fix me right. If you don't I'm agonna have the same claim you got to bein'

Then came the supreme moment of Perry's evening, the ultimate chance on which he risked his fortunes. He

rose and looked first at Betty, where she sat weakly, aghast at this new complication, and then at the

"Very well," said Perry slowly to the individual, "you can have her. Betty, I'm going to prove to you that as

far as I'm concerned our marriage was entirely accidental. I'm going to renounce utterly my rights to have you

"Goodby, Betty," he said brokenly. "Don't forget me in your newfound happiness. I'm going to leave for

With a last glance at them he turned and his head rested on his chest as his hand touched the doorknob.

But at this sound the snakes and silk and tawny hair precipitated themselves violently toward him.

"I don't care," she cried. "I love you and if you can wake up a minister at this hour and have it done over

Over her shoulder the front part of the camel looked at the back part of the cameland they exchanged a

particularly subtle, esoteric sort of wink that only true camels can understand.

In 1915 Horace Tarbox was thirteen years old. In that year he took the examinations for entrance to Princeton

University and received the Grade A excellent in Csar, Cicero, Vergil, Xenophon, Homer, Algebra,

Two years later, while George M. Cohan was composing "Over There," Horace was leading the sophomore

class by several lengths and digging out theses on "The Syllogism as an Obsolete Scholastic Form," and

during the battle of ChateauThierry he was sitting at his desk deciding whether or not to wait until his

seventeenth birthday before beginning his series of essays on "The Pragmatic Bias of the New Realists."

After a while some newsboy told him that the war was over, and he was glad, because it meant that Peat

Brothers, publishers, would get out their new edition of "Spinoza's Improvement of the Understanding." Wars

were all very well in their way, made young men selfreliant or something, but Horace felt that he could

never forgive the President for allowing a brass band to play under his window on the night of the false

armistice, causing him to leave three important sentences out of his thesis on "German Idealism."

He was seventeen then, tall and slender, with nearsighted gray eyes and an air of keeping himself utterly

"I never feel as though I'm talking to him," expostulated Professor Dillinger to a sympathetic colleague. "He

makes me feel as though I were talking to his representative. I always expect him to say: 'Well, I'll ask myself

And then, just as nonchalantly as though Horace Tarbox had been Mr. Beef the butcher or Mr. Hat the

haberdasher, life reached in, seized him, handled him, stretched him, and unrolled him like a piece of Irish

To move in the literary fashion I should say that this was all because when way back in colonial days the

hardy pioneers had come to a bald place in Connecticut and asked of each other, "Now, what shall we build

here?" the hardiest one among 'em had answered: "Let's build a town where theatrical managers can try out

musical comedies!" How afterward they founded Yale College there, to try the musical comedies on, is a

story every one knows. At any rate one December, "Home James" opened at the Shubert, and all the students

encored Marcia Meadow, who sang a song about the Blundering Blimp in the first act and did a shaky,

Marcia was nineteen. She didn't have wings, but audiences agreed generally that she didn't need them. She

was a blonde by natural pigment, and she wore no paint on the streets at high noon. Outside of that she was

It was Charlie Moon who promised her five thousand Pall Malls if she would pay a call on Horace Tarbox,

prodigy extraordinary. Charlie was a senior in Sheffield, and he and Horace were first cousins. They liked

Horace had been particularly busy that night. The failure of the Frenchman Laurier to appreciate the

significance of the new realists was preying on his mind. In fact, his only reaction to a low, clearcut rap at

his study was to make him speculate as to whether any rap would have actual existence without an ear there

to hear it. He fancied he was verging more and more toward pragmatism. But at that moment, though he did

not know it, he was verging with astounding rapidity toward something quite different.

He heard the door open and then close, but, bent over his book in the big armchair before the fire, he did not

Marcia Meadow had to talk her songs, but her speaking voice was like byplay on a harp.

Across the fire from Horace was another easychair. He was accustomed to change to it in the course of an

evening by way of exercise and variety. One chair he called Berkeley, the other he called Hume. He suddenly

heard a sound as of a rustling, diaphanous form sinking into Hume. He glanced up.

"Well," said Marcia with the sweet smile she used in Act Two ("Oh, so the Duke liked my dancing!"), "Well,

Horace stared at her dazedly. The momentary suspicion came to him that she existed there only as a phantom

of his imagination. Women didn't come into men's rooms and sink into men's Humes. Women brought

laundry and took your seat in the streetcar and married you later on when you were old enough to know

This woman had clearly materialized out of Hume. The very froth of her brown gauzy dress was an

emanation from Hume's leather arm there! If he looked long enough he would see Hume right through her

and then he would be alone again in the room. He passed his fist across his eyes. He really must take up those

"For Pete's sake, don't look so critical!" objected the emanation pleasantly. "I feel as if you were going to

wish me away with that patent dome of yours. And then there wouldn't be anything left of me except my

Horace coughed. Coughing was one of his two gestures. When he talked you forgot he had a body at all. It

"I want them letters," whined Marcia melodramatically "them letters of mine you bought from my

"I haven't got your letters," he said evenly. "I am only seventeen years old. My father was not born until

"I knew a girl," said Marcia reminiscently, "who went on the tentwentythirty when she was sixteen. She

was so stuck on herself that she could never say 'sixteen' without putting the 'only' before it. We got to calling

her 'Only Jessie.' And she's just where she was when she started only worse. 'Only' is a bad habit, Omar

"I know." agreed Marcia, nodding "your name's Horace. I just call you Omar because you remind me of a

"And I haven't your letters. I doubt if I've ever met your grandfather. In fact, I think it very improbable that

"Me 1881? Why sure! I was secondline stuff when the Florodora Sextette was still in the convent. I was

the original nurse to Mrs. Sol Smith's Juliette. Why, Omar, I was a canteen singer during the War of 1812."

"Oh, let's change the subject, Omar. I'll pull a snore in this chair in a minute."

Then of a sudden Horace Tarbox rose slenderly and began to pace the room with his hands in his pockets.

"I don't care for this," he said as if he were talking to himself "at all. Not that I mind your being here I

don't. You're quite a pretty little thing, but I don't like Charlie Moon's sending you up here. Am I a laboratory

experiment on which the janitors as well as the chemists can make experiments? Is my intellectual

development humorous in any way? Do I look like the pictures of the little Boston boy in the comic

magazines? Has that callow ass, Moon, with his eternal tales about his week in Paris, any right to "

"No," interrupted Marcia emphatically. "And you're a sweet boy. Come here and kiss me."

"Why do you want me to kiss you?" he asked intently. "Do you just go round kissing people?"

"Why, yes," admitted Marcia, unruffled. "'At's all life is. Just going round kissing people."

"Well," replied Horace emphatically, "I must say your ideas are horribly garbled! In the first place life isn't

just that, and in the second place I won't kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can't get rid of habits. This

"See here," said Marcia sternly, "I like you, Omar, but I wish you'd talk as if you had a line on what you were

saying. You sound as if you were gargling a lot of words in your mouth and lost a bet every time you spilled

"Later, perhaps," he answered. "You see I'm a plan. I'm an experiment. I don't say that I don't get tired of it

sometimes I do. Yet oh, I can't explain! But what you and Charlie Moon call fun wouldn't be fun to

Horace stared at her, started to speak and then, changing his mind, resumed his walk. After an unsuccessful

"Very well, then. Here's my history: I was a 'why' child. I wanted to see the wheels go round. My father was a

young economics professor at Princeton. He brought me up on the system of answering every question I

asked him to the best of his ability. My response to that gave him the idea of making an experiment in

precocity. To aid in the massacre I had ear trouble seven operations between the ages of nine and twelve.

Of course this kept me apart from other boys and made me ripe for forcing. Anyway, while my generation

was laboring through Uncle Remus I was honestly enjoying Catullus in the original.

"I passed off my college examinations when I was thirteen because I couldn't help it. My chief associates

were professors, and I took a tremendous pride in knowing that I had a fine intelligence, for though I was

unusually gifted I was not abnormal in other ways. When I was sixteen I got tired of being a freak; I decided

that some one had made a bad mistake. Still as I'd gone that far I concluded to finish it up by taking my

degree of Master of Arts. My chief interest in life is the study of modern philosophy. I am a realist of the

School of Anton Laurier with Bergsonian trimmings and I'll be eighteen years old in two months. That's

"Whew!" exclaimed Marcia. "That's enough! You do a neat job with the parts of speech."

"It's not in my programme," demurred Horace. "Understand that I don't pretend to be above physical things.

"Well, that's O.K. with me. I got a notion I want to see you do something that isn't in your highbrow

programme. I want to see if a whatchcallem with Brazilian trimmings that thing you said you were

"My life is blighted," muttered Marcia tragically. "I'm a beaten woman. I'll go through life without ever

having a kiss with Brazilian trimmings." She sighed. "Anyways, Omar, will you come and see my show?"

"Yes at a stretch. One of the characters is a Brazilian riceplanter. That might interest you."

"I saw 'The Bohemian Girl' once," reflected Horace aloud. "I enjoyed it to some extent."

"I like you, Omar. I'm sorry I tried to kid you. I thought you'd be sort of frozen, but you're a nice boy."

"My name's Marcia Meadow," she said emphatically. "'Member it Marcia Meadow. And I won't tell

An instant later as she was skimming down the last flight of stairs three at a time she heard a voice call over

"I hope I haven't given you the impression that I consider kissing intrinsically irrational."

Two doors near her opened curiously at the sound of a feminine voice. A tentative cough sounded from

above. Gathering her skirts, Marcia dived wildly down the last flight, and was swallowed up in the murky

Upstairs Horace paced the floor of his study. From time to time he glanced toward Berkeley waiting there in

suave darkred respectability, an open book lying suggestively on his cushions. And then he found that his

circuit of the floor was bringing him each time nearer to Hume. There was something about Hume that was

strangely and inexpressibly different. The diaphanous form still seemed hovering near, and had Horace sat

there he would have felt as if he were sitting on a lady's lap. And though Horace couldn't have named the

quality of difference, there was such a quality quite intangible to the speculative mind, but real,

nevertheless. Hume was radiating something that in all the two hundred years of his influence he had never

On Thursday night Horace Tarbox sat in an aisle seat in the fifth row and witnessed "Home James." Oddly

enough he found that he was enjoying himself. The cynical students near him were annoyed at his audible

appreciation of timehonored jokes in the Hammerstein tradition. But Horace was waiting with anxiety for

Marcia Meadow singing her song about a Jazzbound Blundering Blimp. When she did appear, radiant under

a floppity flowerfaced hat, a warm glow settled over him, and when the song was over he did not join in the

In the intermission after the second act an usher materialized beside him, demanded to know if he were Mr.

Tarbox, and then handed him a note written in a round adolescent hand. Horace read it in some confusion,

"DEAR OMAR: After the show I always grow an awful hunger. If you want to satisfy it for me in the Taft

Grill just communicate your answer to the bigtimber guide that brought this and oblige.

"Tell her" he coughed "tell her that it will be quite all right. I'll meet her in front of the theatre."

Then half an hour later, sitting in the Taft Grill opposite the hair that was yellow by natural pigment, the

"Do you have to do that dance in the last act?" he was saying earnestly "I mean, would they dismiss you if

"I should think you'd detest it," he remarked succinctly. "The people behind me were making remarks about

"I can't help that," she said quickly. "The dance to me is only a sort of acrobatic stunt. Lord, it's hard enough

"Uhhuh sure! I got in the habit of having people look at me, Omar, and I like it."

"Hm!" repeated Horace, and then after a pause: "Where does the play go from here?"

"Coming up to lay eyes on me, Omar, or aren't you int'rested? Not as nice here, is it, as it was up in your

At this he looked suddenly so melancholy that she changed her tone, and reaching over patted his hand.

"No," said Horace miserably, "and I never will again. I don't know why I came tonight. Here under all these

lights and with all these people laughing and chattering I feel completely out of my sphere. I don't know what

"Well, my name really is Meadow, but my first name isn't Marcia it's Veronica. I'm nineteen. Question

how did the girl make her leap to the footlights? Answer she was born in Passaic, New Jersey, and up to a

year ago she got the right to breathe by pushing Nabiscoes in Marcel's tearoom in Trenton. She started

going with a guy named Robbins, a singer in the Trent House cabaret, and he got her to try a song and dance

with him one evening. In a month we were filling the supperroom every night. Then we went to New York

"In two days we'd landed a job at Divinerries', and I learned to shimmy from a kid at the Palais Royal. We

stayed at Divinerries' six months until one night Peter Boyce Wendell, the columnist, ate his milktoast there.

Next morning a poem about Marvellous Marcia came out in his newspaper, and within two days I had three

vaudeville offers and a chance at the Midnight Frolic. I wrote Wendell a thankyou letter, and he printed it in

his column said that the style was like Carlyle's, only more rugged, and that I ought to quit dancing and do

North American literature. This got me a coupla more vaudeville offers and a chance as an ingenu in a

When she finished they sat for a moment in silence, she draping the last skeins of a Welsh rabbit on her fork

"What's the check?" she demanded briskly. "My part the rabbit and the ginger ale."

With a halfsigh Marcia rose from the table and walked from the room. Horace, his face a document in

bewilderment, laid a bill down and followed her out, up the stairs and into the lobby. He overtook her in front

"See here," he repeated, "you're my guest. Have I said something to offend you?"

"I can't help it," said Horace with a directness she found quite disarming. "You know I like you."

"Because I didn't. I've formed the habit of liking you. I've been thinking of nothing much else for two days."

"Wait a minute," he interrupted. "I've got something to say. It's this: in six weeks I'll be eighteen years old.

When I'm eighteen years old I'm coming up to New York to see you. Is there some place in New York where

"Sure!" smiled Marcia. "You can come up to my 'partment. Sleep on the couch, if you want to."

"All right just so I can see you alone. I want to talk to you as we talked up in my room."

The elevator man was looking at them reproachfully. Marcia edged toward the grated door.

"Send me a postcard! I'll come up any time after January first. I'll be eighteen then."

And as she stepped into the elevator he coughed enigmatically, yet with a vague challenge, at the ceiling, and

He was there again. She saw him when she took her first glance at the restless Manhattan audience down

in the front row with his head bent a bit forward and his gray eyes fixed on her. And she knew that to him

they were alone together in a world where the highrouged row of ballet faces and the massed whines of the

violins were as imperceivable as powder on a marble Venus. An instinctive defiance rose within her.

"What do they expect for a hundred a week perpetual motion?" she grumbled to herself in the wings.

During the last act as she waited for her specialty she had an odd attack of stage fright. She had never sent

Horace the promised postcard. Last night she had pretended not to see him had hurried from the theatre

immediately after her dance to pass a sleepless night in her apartment, thinking as she had so often in the

last month of his pale, rather intent face, his slim, boyish figure, the merciless, unworldly abstraction that

And now that he had come she felt vaguely sorry as though an unwonted responsibility was being forced

On the stage she felt better. This was her dance and she always felt that the way she did it wasn't

suggestive any more than to some men every pretty girl is suggestive. She made it a stunt.

He was not watching her now. She saw that clearly. He was looking very deliberately at a castle on the back

drop, wearing that expression he had worn in the Taft Grill. A wave of exasperation swept over her he was

Unconquerable revulsion seized her. She was suddenly and horribly conscious of her audience as she had

never been since her first appearance. Was that a leer on a pallid face in the front row, a droop of disgust on

one young girl's mouth? These shoulders of hers these shoulders shaking were they hers? Were they

The bassoon and two cellos crashed into a final chord. She paused and poised a moment on her toes with

every muscle tense, her young face looking out dully at the audience in what one young girl afterward called

"such a curious, puzzled look," and then without bowing rushed from the stage. Into the dressingroom she

Her apartment was very warm small, it was, with a row of professional pictures and sets of Kipling and O.

Henry which she had bought once from a blueeyed agent and read occasionally. And there were several

chairs which matched, but were none of them comfortable, and a pinkshaded lamp with blackbirds painted

on it and an atmosphere of rather stifled pink throughout. There were nice things in it nice things

unrelentingly hostile to each other, offsprings of a vicarious, impatient taste acting in stray moments. The

worst was typified by a great picture framed in oak bark of Passaic as seen from the Erie Railroad

altogether a frantic, oddly extravagant, oddly penurious attempt to make a cheerful room. Marcia knew it was

Her arms went out to him. She kissed his mouth with a sort of passionate wholesomeness.

She kissed him again and then with a little sigh flung herself into an armchair and half lay there, shaken with

"Very well, call me that if you want to. I once told you that I was ten thousand years older than you I am."

"Dear boy," she said, "you know I sort of love you. There's something about you I can't tell what that

just puts my heart through the wringer every time I'm round you. But, honey " She paused.

"Nonsense!" he interrupted. "Put it this way that I'm in my nineteenth year and you're nineteen. That

makes us pretty close without counting that other ten thousand years I mentioned."

"My people!" exclaimed the prodigy ferociously. "My people tried to make a monstrosity out of me." His

face grew quite crimson at the enormity of what he was going to say. "My people can go way back and sit

"Tacks yes," he agreed wildly "on anything. The more I think of how they allowed me to become a little

"Yes. Every person I've met on the streets since I met you has made me jealous because they knew what love

Marcia laughed, and crossing swiftly over sat in his lap. He put his arm round her wildly and implanted the

"There's something white about you," mused Marcia, "but it doesn't sound very logical."

Horace and Marcia were married early in February. The sensation in academic circles both at Yale and

Princeton was tremendous. Horace Tarbox, who at fourteen had been played up in the Sunday magazines

sections of metropolitan newspapers, was throwing over his career, his chance of being a world authority on

American philosophy, by marrying a chorus girl they made Marcia a chorus girl. But like all modern

They took a flat in Harlem. After two weeks' search, during which his idea of the value of academic

knowledge faded unmercifully, Horace took a position as clerk with a South American export company

some one had told him that exporting was the coming thing. Marcia was to stay in her show for a few

months anyway until he got on his feet. He was getting a hundred and twentyfive to start with, and

though of course they told him it was only a question of months until he would be earning double that,

Marcia refused even to consider giving up the hundred and fifty a week that she was getting at the time.

"We'll call ourselves Head and Shoulders, dear," she said softly, "and the shoulders'll have to keep shaking a

"Well," she replied emphatically, "your salary wouldn't keep us in a tenement. Don't think I want to be

public I don't. I want to be yours. But I'd be a halfwit to sit in one room and count the sunflowers on the

wallpaper while I waited for you. When you pull down three hundred a month I'll quit."

And much as it hurt his pride, Horace had to admit that hers was the wiser course.

March mellowed into April. May read a gorgeous riot act to the parks and waters of Manhattan, and they

were very happy. Horace, who had no habits whatsoever he had never had time to form any proved the

most adaptable of husbands, and as Marcia entirely lacked opinions on the subjects that engrossed him there

were very few jottings and bumpings. Their minds moved in different spheres. Marcia acted as practical

factotum, and Horace lived either in his old world of abstract ideas or in a sort of triumphantly earthy worship

and adoration of his wife. She was a continual source of astonishment to him the freshness and originality

And Marcia's coworkers in the nineo'clock show, whither she had transferred her talents, were impressed

with her tremendous pride in her husband's mental powers. Horace they knew only as a very slim,

tightlipped, and immaturelooking young man, who waited every night to take her home.

"Horace," said Marcia one evening when she met him as usual at eleven, "you looked like a ghost standing

"I don't care," said Marcia severely. "You're killing yourself working at night. You read those big books on

"Well, you read 'em every night long after I'm asleep. And you're getting all stooped over like you were

"No, you haven't, dear. I guess I'm running this shop for the present, and I won't let my fella ruin his health

"Oh, I know! But those dumbbells of yours wouldn't give a consumptive two degrees of fever. I mean real

exercise. You've got to join a gymnasium. 'Member you told me you were such a trick gymnast once that they

tried to get you out for the team in college and they couldn't because you had a standing date with Herb

"All right," said Marcia. "I'll make a bargain with you. You join a gym and I'll read one of those books from

"Not for me he isn't. It'll be like digesting plate glass. But you been telling me how much it'd broaden my

lookout. Well, you go to a gym three nights a week and I'll take one big dose of Sammy."

"Come on, now! You do some giant swings for me and I'll chase some culture for you."

So Horace finally consented, and all through a baking summer he spent three and sometimes four evenings a

week experimenting on the trapeze in Skipper's Gymnasium. And in August he admitted to Marcia that it

"Don't believe in it," replied Marcia. "I tried one of those patent medicines once and they're all bunk. You

One night in early September while he was going through one of his contortions on the rings in the nearly

deserted room he was addressed by a meditative fat man whom he had noticed watching him for several

"I invented it," he said. "I got the idea from the fourth proposition of Euclid."

"Well, he must of broke his neck doin' that stunt. I set here last night thinkin' sure you was goin' to break

"It did at first, but inside of a week I wrote the quod eras demonstrandum on it."

'Good money in it if you're willin' to do stunts like 'at an' can get away with it."

"Here's another," chirped Horace eagerly, and the fat man's mouth dropped suddenly agape as he watched this

The night following this encounter Horace got home from work to find a rather pale Marcia stretched out on

"Yep. You see baby's due in four months now. Doctor says I ought to have quit dancing two weeks ago."

"I'm glad, of course," he said pensively "I mean glad that we're going to have a baby. But this means a lot

"I've got two hundred and fifty in the bank," said Marcia hopefully, "and two weeks' pay coming."

"Including my salary, that'll give us nearly fourteen hundred for the next six months."

"That all? Course I can get a job singing somewhere this month. And I can go to work again in March."

"Of course nothing!" said Horace gruffly. "You'll stay right here. Let's see now there'll be doctor's bills and

"Well," said Marcia wearily, "I don't know where it's coming from. It's up to the old head now. Shoulders is

Ten minutes later as he headed down the street toward Skipper's Gymnasium he felt a placid wonder, quite

unmixed with humor, at what he was going to do. How he would have gaped at himself a year before! How

every one would have gaped! But when you opened your door at the rap of life you let in many things.

The gymnasium was brightly lit, and when his eyes became accustomed to the glare he found the meditative

"Say," began Horace directly, "were you in earnest last night when you said I could make money on my

"Well, I've been thinking it over, and I believe I'd like to try it. I could work at night and on Saturday

"Well," he said, "Charlie Paulson's the man to see. He'll book you inside of four days, once he sees you work

The fat man was as good as his word. Charlie Paulson arrived next night and put in a wondrous hour

watching the prodigy swoop through the air in amazing parabolas, and on the night following he brought two

large men with him who looked as though they had been born smoking black cigars and talking about money

in low, passionate voices. Then on the succeeding Saturday Horace Tarbox's torso made its first professional

appearance in a gymnastic exhibition at the Coleman Street Gardens. But though the audience numbered

nearly five thousand people, Horace felt no nervousness. From his childhood he had read papers to

"Marcia," he said cheerfully later that same night, "I think we're out of the woods. Paulson thinks he can get

me an opening at the Hippodrome, and that means an allwinter engagement. The Hippodrome, you know, is

"Yes, I believe I've heard of it," interrupted Marcia, "but I want to know about this stunt you're doing. It isn't

"It's nothing," said Horace quietly. "But if you can think of any nicer way of a man killing himself than taking

"Kiss me," she whispered, "and call me 'dear heart.' I love to hear you say 'dear heart.' And bring me a book

to read tomorrow. No more Sam Pepys, but something trick and trashy. I've been wild for something to do

"I wish I could," breathed Marcia. "If I knew words enough I could write you the longest loveletter in the

But after two more months Marcia grew very tired indeed, and for a row of nights it was a very anxious,

wearylooking young athlete who walked out before the Hippodrome crowd. Then there were two days when

his place was taken by a young man who wore pale blue instead of white, and got very little applause. But

after the two days Horace appeared again, and those who sat close to the stage remarked an expression of

beatific happiness on that young acrobat's face, even when he was twisting breathlessly in the air in the

middle of his amazing and original shoulder swing. After that performance he laughed at the elevator man

and dashed up the stairs to the flat five steps at a time and then tiptoed very carefully into a quiet room.

"Hello!" She smiled up at him wanly. "Horace, there's something I want you to do. Look in my top bureau

drawer and you'll find a big stack of paper. It's a book sort of Horace. I wrote it down in these last three

months while I've been laid up. I wish you'd take it to that Peter Boyce Wendell who put my letter in his

paper. He could tell you whether it'd be a good book. I wrote it just the way I talk, just the way I wrote that

letter to him. It's just a story about a lot of things that happened to me. Will you take it to him, Horace?"

He leaned over the bed until his head was beside her on the pillow, and began stroking back her yellow hair.

Her eyes closed, and after a moment the slow, lengthening surge of the bedclothes over her breast showed

Horace tiptoed over to the bureau and opening the top drawer found a heap of closely scrawled,

He smiled. So Samuel Pepys had made an impression on her after all. He turned a page and began to read.

His smile deepened he read on. Half an hour passed and he became aware that Marcia had waked and was

"Take it to Peter Boyce Wendell. Tell him you got the highest marks in Princeton once and that you ought to

Her eyes closed again and Horace crossing over kissed her forehead stood there for a moment with a look

All that night the scrawly writing on the pages, the constant mistakes in spelling and grammar, and the weird

punctuation danced before his eyes. He woke several times in the night, each time full of a welling chaotic

sympathy for this desire of Marcia's soul to express itself in words. To him there was something infinitely

pathetic about it, and for the first time in months he began to turn over in his mind his own halfforgotten

He had meant to write a series of books, to popularize the new realism as Schopenhauer had popularized

But life hadn't come that way. Life took hold of people and forced them into flying rings. He laughed to think

of that rap at his door, the diaphanous shadow in Hume, Marcia's threatened kiss.

"And it's still me," he said aloud in wonder as he lay awake in the darkness. "I'm the man who sat in Berkeley

with temerity to wonder if that rap would have had actual existence had my ear not been there to hear it. I'm

"Poor gauzy souls trying to express ourselves in something tangible. Marcia with her written book; I with my

unwritten ones. Trying to choose our mediums and then taking what we get and being glad."

"Sandra Pepys, Syncopated," with an introduction by Peter Boyce Wendell, the columnist, appeared serially

in Jordan's Magazine, and came out in book form in March. From its first published instalment it attracted

attention far and wide. A trite enough subject a girl from a small New Jersey town coming to New York to

go on the stage treated simply, with a peculiar vividness of phrasing and a haunting undertone of sadness

Peter Boyce Wendell, who happened at that time to be advocating the enrichment of the American language

by the immediate adoption of expressive vernacular words, stood as its sponsor and thundered his

Marcia received three hundred dollars an instalment for the serial publication, which came at an opportune

time, for though Horace's monthly salary at the Hippodrome was now more than Marcia's had ever been,

young Marcia was emitting shrill cries which they interpreted as a demand for country air. So early April

found them installed in a bungalow in Westchester County, with a place for a lawn, a place for a garage, and

a place for everything, including a soundproof impregnable study, in which Marcia faithfully promised Mr.

Jordan she would shut herself up when her daughter's demands began to be abated, and compose immortally

"It's not half bad," thought Horace one night as he was on his way from the station to his house. He was

considering several prospects that had opened up, a four months' vaudeville offer in five figures, a chance to

go back to Princeton in charge of all gymnasium work. Odd! He had once intended to go back there in charge

of all philosophic work, and now he had not even been stirred by the arrival in New York of Anton Laurier,

The gravel crunched raucously under his heel. He saw the lights of his sittingroom gleaming and noticed a

big car standing in the drive. Probably Mr. Jordan again, come to persuade Marcia to settle down to work.

She had heard the sound of his approach and her form was silhouetted against the lighted door as she came

"There's some Frenchman here," she whispered nervously. "I can't pronounce his name, but he sounds awful

"You can't prove it by me. He drove up an hour ago with Mr. Jordan, and said he wanted to meet Sandra

"Hello, Tarbox," said Jordan. "I've just been bringing together two celebrities. I've brought M'sieur Laurier

out with me. M'sieur Laurier, let me present Mr. Tarbox, Mrs. Tarbox's husband."

"But, yes. I must come. I have to come. I have read the book of Madame, and I have been charmed" he

fumbled in his pocket "ah, I have read of you too. In this newspaper which I read today it has your

"A distinct contribution to American dialect literature," it said. "No attempt at literary tone; the book derives

Horace's eyes caught a passage lower down; he became suddenly aghast read on hurriedly:

"Marcia Tarbox's connection with the stage is not only as a spectator but as the wife of a performer. She was

married last year to Horace Tarbox, who every evening delights the children at the Hippodrome with his

wondrous flyingring performance. It is said that the young couple have dubbed themselves Head and

Shoulders, referring doubtless to the fact that Mrs. Tarbox supplies the literary and mental qualities, while the

supple and agile shoulders of her husband contribute their share to the family fortunes.

Horace stopped reading, and with a very odd expression in his eyes gazed intently at Anton Laurier.

The sunlight dripped over the house like golden paint over an art jar, and the freckling shadows here and

there only intensified the rigor of the bath of light. The Butterworth and Larkin houses flanking were

intrenched behind great stodgy trees; only the Happer house took the full sun, and all day long faced the

dusty roadstreet with a tolerant kindly patience. This was the city of Tarleton in southernmost Georgia,

Up in her bedroom window Sally Carrol Happer rested her nineteenyearold chin on a fiftytwoyearold

sill and watched Clark Darrow's ancient Ford turn the corner. The car was hot being partly metallic it

retained all the heat it absorbed or evolved and Clark Darrow sitting bolt upright at the wheel wore a

pained, strained expression as though he considered himself a spare part, and rather likely to break. He

laboriously crossed two dust ruts, the wheels squeaking indignantly at the encounter, and then with a

terrifying expression he gave the steeringgear a final wrench and deposited self and car approximately in

front of the Happer steps. There was a plaintive heaving sound, a deathrattle, followed by a short silence;

Sally Carrol gazed down sleepily. She started to yawn, but finding this quite impossible unless she raised her

chin from the windowsill, changed her mind and continued silently to regard the car, whose owner sat

brilliantly if perfunctorily at attention as he waited for an answer to his signal. After a moment the whistle

With difficulty Clark twisted his tall body round and bent a distorted glance on the window.

Sally Carrol sighed voluminously and raised herself with profound inertia from the floor, where she had been

occupied in alternately destroying parts of a green apple and painting paper tops for her younger sister. She

approached a mirror, regarded her expression with a pleassd and pleasant languor, dabbed two spots of rouge

on her lips and a grain of powder on her nose, and covered her bobbed corncolored hair with a rose littered

sun bonnet. Then she kicked over the painting water, said, "Oh, damn!" but let it lay and left the room.

"How you, Clark?" she inquired a minute later as she slipped nimbly over the side of the car.

Clark was dark and lean, and when on foot was rather inclined to stoop. His eyes were ominous and his

expression somewhat petulant except when startlingly illuminated by one of his frequent smiles. Clark had "a

income" just enough to keep himself in ease and his car in gasolene and he had spent the two years

since he graduated from Georgia Tech in dozing round the lazy streets of his home town, discussing how he

Hanging round he found not at all difficult; a crowd of little girls had grown up beautifully, the amazing Sally

Carrol foremost among them; and they enjoyed being swum with and danced with and made love to in the

flowerfilled summery evenings and they all liked Clark immensely. When feminine company palled

there were half a dozen other youths who were always just about to do something, and meanwhile were quite

willing to join him in a few holes of golf, or a game of billiards, or the consumption of a quart of "hard yella

licker." Every once in a while one of these contemporaries made a farewell round of calls before going up to

New York or Philadelphia or Pittsburgh to go into business, but mostly they just stayed round in this languid

parade of dreamy skies and fireily evenings and noisy niggery street fairs and especially of gracious,

The Ford having been excited into a sort of restless resentful life Clark and Sally Carrol rolled and rattled

down Valley Avenue into Jefferson Street, where the dust road became a pavement; along opiate Millicent

Place, where there were half a dozen prosperous, substantial mansions; and on into the downtown section.

Driving was perilous here, for it was shopping time; the population idled casually across the streets and a

drove of lowmoaning oxen were being urged along in front of a placid streetcar; even the shops seemed

only yawning their doors and blinking their windows in the sunshine before retiring into a state of utter and

"Girl told me you were engaged to a Yankee you met up in Asheville last summer."

"Honey, you couldn't support a wife," she answered cheerfully. "Anyway, I know you too well to fall in love

He broke off as he halted the car in front of a rambling, dilapidated house. Marylyn Wade and Joe Ewing

"Lawdy, where'd all this start? Can't I look at a man 'thout everybody in town engagin' me to him?"

but well, I want to go places and see people. I want my mind to grow. I want to live where things happen

"Oh, Clark, I love you, and I love Joe here, and Ben Arrot, and youall, but you'll you'll "

"Yes. I don't mean only money failures, but just sort of of ineffectual and sad, and oh, how can I tell

"Yes, Clark; and because you like it and never want to change things or think or go ahead."

"Clark," she said softly, "I wouldn't change you for the world. You're sweet the way you are. The things

that'll make you fail I'll love always the living in the past, the lazy days and nights you have, and all your

"Yes because I couldn't ever marry you. You've a place in my heart no one else ever could have, but tied

down here I'd get restless. I'd feel I was wastin' myself. There's two sides to me, you see. There's the sleepy

old side you love; an' there's a sort of energy the feelin' that makes me do wild things. That's the part of me

She broke off with characteristic suddenness and sighed, "Oh, sweet cooky!" as her mood changed.

Half closing her eyes and tipping back her head till it rested on the seatback she let the savory breeze fan her

eyes and ripple the fluffy curls of her bobbed hair. They were in the country now, hurrying between tangled

growths of brightgreen coppice and grass and tall trees that sent sprays of foliage to hang a cool welcome

over the road. Here and there they passed a battered negro cabin, its oldest whitehaired inhabitant smoking a

corncob pipe beside the door, and half a dozen scantily clothed pickaninnies parading tattered dolls on the

wildgrown grass in front. Farther out were lazy cottonfields, where even the workers seemed intangible

shadows lent by the sun to the earth, not for toil, but to while away some ageold tradition in the golden

September fields. And round the drowsy picturesqueness, over the trees and shacks and muddy rivers, flowed

the heat, never hostile, only comforting, like a great warm nourishing bosom for the infant earth.

In November Harry Bellamy, tall, broad, and brisk, came down from his Northern city to spend four days.

His intention was to settle a matter that had been hanging fire since he and Sally Carrol had met in Asheville,

North Carolina, in midsummer. The settlement took only a quiet afternoon and an evening in front of a

glowing open fire, for Harry Bellamy had everything she wanted; and, besides, she loved him loved him

with that side of her she kept especially for loving. Sally Carrol had several rather clearly defined sides.

On his last afternoon they walked, and she found their steps tending halfunconsciously toward one of her

favorite haunts, the cemetery. When it came in sight, graywhite and goldengreen under the cheerful late

They passed through the gateway and followed a path that led through a wavy valley of graves dustygray

and mouldy for the fifties; quaintly carved with flowers and jars for the seventies; ornate and hideous for the

nineties, with fat marble cherubs lying in sodden sleep on stone pillows, and great impossible growths of

nameless granite flowers. Occasionally they saw a kneeling figure with tributary flowers, but over most of the

graves lay silence and withered leaves with only the fragrance that their own shadowy memories could waken

They reached the top of a hill where they were fronted by a tall, round headstone, freckled with dark spots

"Margery Lee," she read; "18441873. Wasn't she nice? She died when she was twentynine. Dear Margery

"She was dark, I think; and she always wore her hair with a ribbon in it, and gorgeous hoopskirts of alice

"Oh, she was sweet, Harry! And she was the sort of girl born to stand on a wide, pillared porch and welcome

folks in. I think perhaps a lot of men went away to war meanin' to come back to her; but maybe none of 'em

"Of course not. How could there be anything there better than just 'Margery Lee,' and that eloquent date?"

"I see," he agreed gently. "I see through your precious eyes. You're beautiful now, so I know she must have

Silent and close they stood, and he could feel her shoulders trembling a little. An ambling breeze swept up the

She was pointing to a flat stretch on the other side of the hill where along the greenturf were a thousand

grayishwhite crosses stretching in endless, ordered rows like the stacked arms of a battalion.

They walked along and read the inscriptions, always only a name and a date, sometimes quite indecipherable.

"The last row is the saddest see, 'way over there. Every cross has just a date on it, and the word

"No, no, it's not me, it's them that old time that I've tried to have live in me. These were just men,

unimportant evidently or they wouldn't have been `unknown'; but they died for the most beautiful thing in the

world the dead South. You see," she continued, her voice still husky, her eyes glistening with tears,

"people have these dreams they fasten onto things, and I've always grown up with that dream. It was so easy

because it was all dead and there weren't any disillusions comin' to me. I've tried in a way to live up to those

past standards of noblesse oblige there's just the last remnants of it, you know, like the roses of an old

garden dying all round us streaks of strange courtliness and chivalry in some of these boys an' stories I

used to hear from a Confederate soldier who lived next door, and a few old darkies. Oh, Harry, there was

something, there was something! I couldn't ever make you understand, but it was there."

Sally Carrol smiled and dried her eyes on the tip of a handkerchief protruding from his breast pocket.

"You don't feel depressed, do you, lover? Even when I cry I'm happy here, and I get a sort of strength from

Hand in hand they turned and walked slowly away. Finding soft grass she drew him down to a seat beside her

"Wish those three old women would clear out," he complained. "I want to kiss you, Sally Carrol."

They waited impatiently for the three bent figures to move off, and then she kissed him until the sky seemed

to fade out and all her smiles and tears to vanish in an ecstasy of eternal seconds.

Afterward they walked slowly back together, while on the corners twilight played at somnolent

"You'll be up about midJanuary," he said, "and you've got to stay a month at least. It'll be slick. There's a

winter carnival on, and if you've never really seen snow it'll be like fairyland to you. There'll be skating and

skiing and tobogganing and sleighriding, and all sorts of torchlight parades on snowshoes. They haven't

"You certainly won't. You may freeze your nose, but you won't be shivery cold. It's hard and dry, you know."

All night in the Pullman it was very cold. She rang for the porter to ask for another blanket, and when he

couldn't give her one she tried vainly, by squeezing down into the bottom of her berth and doubling back the

bedclothes, to snatch a few hours' sleep. She wanted to look her best in the morning.

She rose at six and sliding uncomfortably into her clothes stumbled up to the diner for a cup of coffee. The

snow had filtered into the vestibules and covered the floor with a slippery coating. It was intriguing, this cold,

it crept in everywhere. Her breath was quite visible and she blew into the air with a nave enjoyment. Seated

in the diner she stared out the window at white hills and valleys and scattered pines whose every branch was

a green platter for a cold feast of snow. Sometimes a solitary farmhouse would fly by, ugly and bleak and

lone on the white waste; and with each one she had an instant of chill compassion for the souls shut in there

As she left the diner and swayed back into the Pullman she experienced a surging rush of energy and

wondered if she was feeling the bracing air of which Harry had spoken. This was the North, the North her

The long wires of the telegraphpoles doubled; two tracks ran up beside the train three four; came a

succession of whiteroofed houses, a glimpse of a trolleycar with frosted windows, streets more

She stood for a dazed moment in the frosty station before she saw three furbundled figures descending upon

A faintly familiar icycold face kissed her, and then she was in a group of faces all apparently emitting great

clouds of heavy smoke; she was shaking hands. There were Gordon, a short, eager man of thirty who looked

like an amateur knockedabout model for Harry, and his wife, Myra, a listless lady with flaxen hair under a

fur automobile cap. Almost immediately Sally Carrol thought of her as vaguely Scandinavian. A cheerful

chauffeur adopted her bag, and amid ricochets of halfphrases, exclamations, and perfunctory listless "my

Then they were in a sedan bound through a crooked succession of snowy streets where dozens of little boys

Home was a rambling frame house set on a white lap of snow, and there she met a big, grayhaired man of

whom she approved, and a lady who was like an egg, and who kissed her these were Harry's parents. There

was a breathless indescribable hour crammed full of halfsentences, hot water, bacon and eggs and

confusion; and after that she was alone with Harry in the library, asking him if she dared smoke.

It was a large room with a Madonna over the fireplace and rows upon rows of books in covers of light gold

and dark gold and shiny red. All the chairs had little lace squares where one's head should rest, the couch was

just comfortable, the books looked as if they had been read some and Sally Carrol had an instantaneous

vision of the battered old library at home, with her father's huge medical books, and the oilpaintings of her

three greatuncles, and the old couch that had been mended up for fortyfive years and was still luxurious to

dream in. This room struck her as being neither attractive nor particularly otherwise. It was simply a room

with a lot of fairly expensive things in it that all looked about fifteen years old.

"What do you think of it up here?" demanded Harry eagerly. "Does it surprise you? Is it what you expected, I

"Oh, Harry," she laughed, "you'll have to give me time. You can't just fling questions at me."

"One thing I want to ask you," he began rather apologetically; "you Southerners put quite an emphasis on

family, and all that not that it isn't quite all right, but you'll find it a little different here. I mean you'll

notice a lot of things that'll seem to you sort of vulgar display at first, Sally Carrol; but just remember that this

is a threegeneration town. Everybody has a father, and about half of us have grandfathers. Back of that we

"Our grandfathers, you see, founded the place, and a lot of them had to take some pretty queer jobs while

they were doing the founding. For instance, there's one woman who at present is about the social model for

"Why," said Sally Carrol, puzzled, "did you s'pose I was goin' to make remarks about people?"

"Not at all," interrupted Harry; "and I'm not apologizing for any one either. It's just that well, a Southern

girl came up here last summer and said some unfortunate things, and oh, I just thought I'd tell you."

Sally Carrol felt suddenly indignant as though she had been unjustly spanked but Harry evidently

"It's carnival time, you know. First in ten years. And there's an ice palace they're building now that's the first

they've had since eightyfive. Built out of blocks of the clearest ice they could find on a tremendous

She rose and walking to the window pushed aside the heavy Turkish portires and looked out.

"Oh!" she cried suddenly. "There's two little boys makin' a snow man! Harry, do you reckon I can go out an'

"I don't guess this is a very kissable climate, is it? I mean, it makes you so you don't want to sit round, doesn't

"We're not going to. I've got a vacation for the first week you're here, and there's a dinnerdance tonight."

"Oh, Harry," she confessed, subsiding in a heap, half in his lap, half in the pillows, "I sure do feel confused. I

haven't got an idea whether I'll like it or not, an' I don't know what people expect, or anythin'. You'll have to

"I'll tell you," he said softly, "if you'll just tell me you're glad to be here."

"Glad just awful glad!" she whispered, insinuating herself into his arms in her own peculiar way. "Where

And as she said this she had the feeling for almost the first time in her life that she was acting a part.

That night, amid the gleaming candles of a dinnerparty, where the men seemed to do most of the talking

while the girls sat in a haughty and expensive aloofness, even Harry's presence on her left failed to make her

"They're a goodlooking crowd, don't you think?" he demanded. "Just look round. There's Spud Hubbard,

tackle at Princeton last year, and Junie Morton he and the redhaired fellow next to him were both Yale

hockey captains; Junie was in my class. Why, the best athletes in the world come from these States round

"Greatest wheat man in the Northwest, and one of the greatest financiers in the country."

She liked him immediately a reddishbrown mustache under watery blue eyes that had something in them

that these other eyes lacked, some quality of appreciation. They exchanged stray sentences through dinner,

After coffee she was introduced to numerous goodlooking young men who danced with conscious precision

and seemed to take it for granted that she wanted to talk about nothing except Harry.

"Heavens," she thought, "they talk as if my being engaged made me older than they are as if I'd tell their

In the South an engaged girl, even a young married woman, expected the same amount of halfaffectionate

badinage and flattery that would be accorded a dbutante, but here all that seemed banned. One young man,

after getting well started on the subject of Sally Carrol's eyes, and how they had allured him ever since she

entered the room, went into a violent confusion when he found she was visiting the Bellamys was Harry's

fiance. He seemed to feel as though he had made some risque and inexcusable blunder, became immediately

She was rather glad when Roger Patton cut in on her and suggested that they sit out a while.

"Of course," he confessed, "as a professor of literature I'm not supposed to have read Dangerous Dan

"No, I'm a Philadelphian. Imported from Harvard to teach French. But I've been here ten years."

"Just my imagination," laughed Sally Carrol. "I'm used to havin' everythin' quiet outside, an' sometimes I

look out an' see a flurry of snow, an' it's just as if somethin' dead was movin'."

"Nicelooking crowd, aren't they?" suggested Patton, indicating the swirling floor.

"I'm sorry; that sounded worse than I meant it. You see I always think of people as feline or canine,

"I'm feline. So are you. So are most Southern men an' most of these girls here."

"What does `canine' imply? A certain conscious masculinity as opposed to subtlety?"

"Reckon so. I never analyzed it only I just look at people an' say `canine' or `feline' right off. It's right

"Not at all. I'm interested. I used to have a theory about these people. I think they're freezing up."

"I think they're growing like Swedes Ibsenesque, you know. Very gradually getting gloomy and

"Well, you find in his characters a certain brooding rigidity. They're righteous, narrow, and cheerless, without

"Exactly. That's my theory. You see there are thousands of Swedes up here. They come, I imagine, because

the climate is very much like their own, and there's been a gradual mingling. There're probably not half a

"Your future sisterinlaw is half Swedish. Personally I like her, but my theory is that Swedes react rather

badly on us as a whole. Scandinavians, you know, have the largest suicide rate in the world."

"Oh, it doesn't get me. I'm pretty well cloistered, and I suppose, books mean more than people to me

"But writers all speak about the South being tragic. You know Spanish seoritas, black hair and daggers an'

"No, the Northern races are the tragic races they don't indulge in the cheering luxury of tears."

Sally Carrol thought of her graveyard. She supposed that that was vaguely what she had meant when she said

"The Italians are about the gayest people in the world but it's a dull subject," he broke off. "Anyway, I

"I know. I'm the sort of person who wants to be taken care of after a certain point, and I feel sure I will be."

"Shall we dance? You know," he continued as they rose, "it's encouraging to find a girl who knows what she's

marrying for. Ninetenths of them think of it as a sort of walking into a movingpicture sunset."

She buried her face deep in his fur coat and trembled involuntarily as his cold lips kissed the tip of her ear.

The first week of her visit passed in a whirl. She had her promised tobogganride at the back of an

automobile through a chill January twilight. Swathed in furs she put in a morning tobogganing on the

countryclub hill; even tried skiing, to sail through the air for a glorious moment and then land in a tangled

laughing bundle on a soft snowdrift. She liked all the winter sports, except an afternoon spent snowshoeing

over a glaring plain under pale yellow sunshine, but she soon realized that these things were for children

that she was being humored and that the enjoyment round her was only a reflection of her own.

At first the Bellamy family puzzled her. The men were reliable and she liked them; to Mr. Bellamy

especially, with his irongray hair and energetic dignity, she took an immediate fancy, once she found that he

was born in Kentucky; this made of him a link between the old life and the new. But toward the women she

felt a definite hostility. Myra, her future sisterinlaw, seemed the essence of spiritless conventionality. Her

conversation was so utterly devoid of personality that Sally Carrol, who came from a country where a certain

amount of charm and assurance could be taken for granted in the women, was inclined to despise her.

"If those women aren't beautiful," she thought, "they're nothing. They just fade out when you look at them.

Lastly there was Mrs. Bellamy, whom Sally Carrol detested. The first day's impression of an egg had been

confirmed an egg with a cracked, veiny voice and such an ungracious dumpiness of carriage that Sally

Carrol felt that if she once fell she would surely scramble. In addition, Mrs. Bellamy seemed to typify the

town in being innately hostile to strangers. She called Sally Carrol "Sally," and could not be persuaded that

the double name was anything more than a tedious ridiculous nickname. To Sally Carrol this shortening of

her name was like presenting her to the public half clothed. She loved "Sally Carrol"; she loathed "Sally." She

knew also that Harry's mother dispproved of her bobbed hair; and she had never dared smoke downstairs

after that first day when Mrs. Bellamy had come into the library sniffing violently.

Of all the men she met she preferred Roger Patton, who was a frequent visitor at the house. He never again

alluded to the Ibsenesque tendency of the populace, but when he came in one day and found her curled upon

the sofa bent over "Peer Gynt" he laughed and told her to forget what he'd said that it was all rot.

And then one afternoon in her second week she and Harry hovered on the edge of a dangerously steep

quarrel. She considered that he precipitated it entirely, though the Serbia in the case was an unknown man

They had been walking homeward between mounds of highpiled snow and under a sun which Sally Carrol

scarcely recognized. They passed a little girl done up in gray wool until she resembled a small Teddy bear,

"Why, your own face is almost as red as that already! Everybody's healthy here. We're out in

She looked at him and had to agree. He was mighty healthylooking; so was his brother. And she had noticed

Suddenly their glances were caught and held, and they stared for a moment at the streetcorner ahead of

them. A man was standing there, his knees bent, his eyes gazing upward with a tense expression as though he

were about to make a leap toward the chilly sky. And then they both exploded into a shout of laughter, for

coming closer they discovered it had been a ludicrous momentary illusion produced by the extreme bagginess

"He must be a Southerner, judging by those trousers," suggested Earry mischievously.

"I'm sorry, dear," said Harry, malignantly apologetic, "but you know what I think of them. They're sort of

sort of degenerates not at all like the old Southerners. They've lived so long down there with all the

"They're not! They may be lazy anybody would be in that climate but they're my best friends, an' I don't

want to hear 'em criticised in any such sweepin' way. Some of 'em are the finest men in the world."

"Oh, I know. They're all right when they come North to college, but of all the hangdog, illdressed, slovenly

"Why," continued Harry, "there was one in my class at New Haven, and we all thought that at last we'd found

the true type of Southern aristocrat, but it turned out that he wasn't an aristocrat at all just the son of a

"I'm sorry, Sally Carrol, but I've heard you say yourself that you'd never marry "

"That's quite different. I told you I wouldn't want to tie my life to any of the boys that are round Tarleton

She nodded but made no answer. Five minutes later as they stood in the hallway she suddenly threw her arms

"Oh, Harry," she cried, her eyes brimming with tears, "let's get married next week. I'm afraid of having fusses

That very night at the end of a vaudeville performance the orchestra played "Dixie" and Sally Carrol felt

something stronger and more enduring than her tears and smiles of the day brim up inside her. She leaned

But she did not hear him. To the spirited throb of the violins and the inspiring beat of the kettledrums her own

old ghosts were marching by and on into the darkness, and as fifes whistled and sighed in the low encore they

It was a particularly cold night. A sudden thaw had nearly cleared the streets the day before, but now they

were traversed again with a powdery wraith of loose snow that travelled in wavy lines before the feet of the

wind, and filled the lower air with a fineparticled mist. There was no sky only a dark, ominous tent that

draped in the tops of the streets and was in reality a vast approaching army of snowflakes while over it all,

chilling away the comfort from the brownandgreen glow of lighted windows and muffling the steady trot

of the horse pulling their sleigh, interminably washed the north wind. It was a dismal town after all, she

Sometimes at night it had seemed to her as though no one lived here they had all gone long ago leaving

lighted houses to be covered in time by tombing heaps of sleet. Oh, if there should be snow on her grave! To

be beneath great piles of it all winter long, where even her headstone would be a light shadow against light

shadows. Her grave a grave that should be flowerstrewn and washed with sun and rain.

She thought again of those isolated country houses that her train had passed, and of the life there the long

winter through the ceaseless glare through the windows, the crust forming on the soft drifts of snow,

finally the slow, cheerless melting, and the harsh spring of which Roger Patton had told her. Her spring to

lose it forever with its lilacs and the lazy sweetness it stirred in her heart. She was laying away that

With a gradual insistence the storm broke. Sally Carrol felt a film of flakes melt quickly on her eyelashes, and

Harry reached over a furry arm and drew down her complicated flannel cap. Then the small flakes came in

skirmishline, and the horse bent his neck patiently as a transparency of white appeared momentarily on his

After another ten minutes they turned a corner and came in sight of their destination. On a tall hill outlined in

vivid glaring green against the wintry sky stood the ice palace. It was three stories in the air, with battlements

and embrasures and narrow icicled windows, and the innumerable electric lights inside made a gorgeous

transparency of the great central hall. Sally Carrol clutched Harry's hand under the fur robe.

"It's beautiful!" he cried excitedly. "My golly, it's beautiful, isn't it! They haven't had one here since

Somehow the notion of there not having been one since eightyfive oppressed her. Ice was a ghost, and this

mansion of it was surely peopled by those shades of the eighties, with pale faces and blurred snowfilled

She followed him out of the sleigh and waited while he hitched the horse. A party of four Gordon, Myra,

Roger Patton, and another girl drew up beside them with a mighty jingle of bells. There were quite a

crowd already, bundled in fur or sheepskin, shouting and calling to each other as they moved through the

snow, which was now so thick that people could scarcely be distinguished a few yards away.

"It's a hundred and seventy feet tall," Harry was saying to a muffled figure beside him as they trudged toward

She caught snatches of conversation: "One main hall" "walls twenty to forty inches thick" "and the ice

They found their way inside, and dazed by the magic of the great crystal walls Sally Carrol found herself

In the great glittering cavern with the dark shut out she took a seat on a wooden bench, and the evening's

oppression lifted. Harry was right it was beautiful; and her gaze travelled the smooth surface of the walls,

the blocks for which had been selected for their purity and clearness to obtain this opalescent, translucent

A band in a far corner struck up "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here!" which echoed over to them in wild

muddled acoustics, and then the lights suddenly went out; silence seemed to flow down the icy sides and

sweep over them. Sally Carrol could still see her white breath in the darkness, and a dim row of pale faces

The music eased to a sighing complaint, and from outside drifted in the fullthroated resonant chant of the

marching clubs. It grew louder like some pan of a viking tribe traversing an ancient wild; it swelled they

were coming nearer; then a row of torches appeared, and another and another, and keeping time with their

moccasined feet a long column of graymackinawed figures swept in, snowshoes slung at their shoulders,

The gray column ended and another followed, the light streaming luridly this time over red toboggan caps

and flaming crimson mackinaws, and as they entered they took up the refrain; then came a long platoon of

"Those white ones are the Wacouta Club," whispered Harry eagerly. "Those are the men you've met round at

The volume of the voices grew; the great cavern was a phantasmagoria of torches waving in great banks of

fire, of colors and the rhythm of softleather steps. The leading column turned and halted, platoon deployed

in front of platoon until the whole procession made a solid flag of flame, and then from thousands of voices

burst a mighty shout that filled the air like a crash of thunder, and sent the torches wavering. It was

magnificent, it was tremendous! To Sally Carrol it was the North offering sacrifice on some mighty altar to

the gray pagan God of Snow. As the shout died the band struck up again and there came more singing, and

then long reverberating cheers by each club. She sat very quiet listening while the staccato cries rent the

stillness; and then she started, for there was a volley of explosion, and great clouds of smoke went up here

and there through the cavern the flashlight photographers at work and the council was over. With the

band at their head the clubs formed in column once more, took up their chant, and began to march out.

"Come on!" shouted Harry. "We want to see the labyrinths downstairs before they turn the lights off!"

They all rose and started toward the chute Harry and Sally Carrol in the lead, her little mitten buried in his

big fur gantlet. At the bottom of the chute was a long empty room of ice, with the ceiling so low that they had

to stoop and their hands were parted. Before she realized what he intended Harry had darted down one of

the halfdozen glittering passages that opened into the room and was only a vague receding blot against the

She looked round the empty chamber; the rest of the party had evidently decided to go home, were already

outside somewhere in the blundering snow. She hesitated and then darted in after Harry.

She had reached a turningpoint thirty feet down; she heard a faint muffled answer far to the left, and with a

touch of panic fled toward it. She passed another turning, two more yawning alleys.

No answer. She started to run straight forward, and then turned like lightning and sped back the way she had

She reached a turn was it here? took the left and came to what should have been the outlet into the long,

low room, but it was only another glittering passage with darkness at the end. She called again, but the walls

gave back a flat, lifeless echo with no reverberations. Retracing her steps she turned another corner, this time

following a wide passage. It was like the green lane between the parted waters of the Red Sea, like a damp

She slipped a little now as she walked, for ice had formed on the bottom of her overshoes; she had to run her

Still no answer. The sound she made bounced mockingly down to the end of the passage.

Then on an instant the lights went out, and she was in complete darkness. She gave a small, frightened cry,

and sank down into a cold little heap on the ice. She felt her left knee do something as she fell, but she

scarcely noticed it as some deep terror far greater than any fear of being lost settled upon her. She was alone

with this presence that came out of the North, the dreary loneliness that rose from icebound whalers in the

Arctic seas, from smokeless, trackless wastes where were strewn the whitened bones of adventure. It was an

With a furious, despairing energy she rose again and started blindly down the darkness. She must get out. She

might be lost in here for days, freeze to death and lie embedded in the ice like corpses she had read of, kept

perfectly preserved until the melting of a glacier. Harry probably thought she had left with the others he

had gone by now; no one would know until late next day. She reached pitifully for the wall. Forty inches

On both sides of her along the walls she felt things creeping, damp souls that haunted this palace, this town,

Clark Darrow he would understand; or Joe Ewing; she couldn't be left here to wander forever to be

frozen, heart, body, and soul. This her this Sally Carrol! Why, she was a happy thing. She was a happy

little girl. She liked warmth and summer and Dixie. These things were foreign foreign.

"You'll never cry any more. Your tears would just freeze; all tears freeze up here!"

A long single file of minutes went by, and with a great weariness she felt her eyes closing. Then some one

seemed to sit down near here and take her face in warm, soft hands. She looked up gratefully.

"Why, it's Margery Lee," she crooned softly to herself. "I knew you'd come." It really was Margery Lee, and

she was just as Sally Carrol had known she would be, with a young, white brow, and wide, welcoming eyes,

It was getting darker now and darker all those tombstones ought to be repainted, sure enough, only that

Then after a succession of moments that went fast and then slow, but seemed to be ultimately resolving

themselves into a multitude of blurred rays converging toward a paleyellow sun, she heard a great cracking

It was the sun, it was a light; a torch, and a torch beyond that, and another one, and voices; a face took flesh

below the torch, heavy arms raised her, and she felt something on her cheek it felt wet. Some one had

Things came rushing back into place the singing, the torches, the great shout of the marching clubs. She

"Oh, I want to get out of here! I'm going back home. Take me home" her voice rose to a scream that sent a

chill to Harry's heart as he came racing down the next passage "tomorrow!" she cried with delirious,

The wealth of golden sunlight poured a quite enervating yet oddly comforting heat over the house where day

long it faced the dusty stretch of road. Two birds were making a great todo in a cool spot found among the

branches of a tree next door, and down the street a colored woman was announcing herself melodiously as a

Sally Carrol Happer, resting her chin on her arm, and her arm on an old windowseat, gazed sleepily down

over the spangled dust whence the heat waves were rising for the first time this spring. She was watching a

very ancient Ford turn a perilous corner and rattle and groan to a jolting stop at the end of the walls. She

made no sound, and in a minute a strident familiar whistle rent the air. Sally Carrol smiled and blinked.

There had been a war fought and won and the great city of the conquering people was crossed with triumphal

arches and vivid with thrown flowers of white, red, and rose. All through the long spring days the returning

soldiers marched up the chief highway behind the strump of drums and the joyous, resonant wind of the

brasses, while merchants and clerks left their bickerings and figurings and, crowding to the windows, turned

Never had there been such splendor in the great city, for the victorious war had brought plenty in its train, and

the merchants had flocked thither from the South and West with their households to taste of all the luscious

feasts and witness the lavish entertainments prepared and to buy for their women furs against the next

winter and bags of golden mesh and varicolored slippers of silk and silver and rose satin and cloth of gold.

So gaily and noisily were the peace and prosperity impending hymned by the scribes and poets of the

conquering people that more and more spenders had gathered from the provinces to drink the wine of

excitement, and faster and faster did the merchants dispose of their trinkets and slippers until they sent up a

mighty cry for more trinkets and more slippers in order that they might give in barter what was demanded of

"Alas! I have no more slippers! and alas! I have no more trinkets! May Heaven help me, for I know not what

But no one listened to their great outcry, for the throngs were far too busy day by day, the footsoldiers

trod jauntily the highway and all exulted because the young men returning were pure and brave, sound of

tooth and pink of cheek, and the young women of the land were virgins and comely both of face and of figure.

So during all this time there were many adventures that happened in the great city, and, of these, several or

At nine o'clock on the morning of the first of May, 1919, a young man spoke to the room clerk at the

Biltmore Hotel, asking if Mr. Philip Dean were registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr.

Dean's rooms. The inquirer was dressed in a wellcut, shabby suit. He was small, slender, and darkly

handsome; his eyes were framed above with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle of

ill health, this latter effect heightened by an unnatural glow which colored his face like a low, incessant fever.

Mr. Dean was staying there. The young man was directed to a telephone at the side.

After a second his connection was made; a sleepy voice hello'd from somewhere above.

"Mr. Dean?" this very eagerly "it's Gordon, Phil. It's Gordon Sterrett. I'm downstairs. I heard you were

The sleepy voice became gradually enthusiastic. Well, how was Gordy, old boy! Well, he certainly was

A few minutes later Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pajamas, opened his door and the two young men

greeted each other with a halfembarrassed exuberance. They were both about twentyfour, Yale graduates

of the year before the war; but there the resemblance stopped abruptly. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged

under his thin pajamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He smiled frequently,

"I was going to look you up," he cried enthusiastically. "I'm taking a couple of weeks off. If you'll sit down a

As he vanished into the bathroom his visitor's dark eyes roved nervously around the room, resting for a

moment on a great English travelling bag in the corner and on a family of thick silk shirts littered on the

Gordon rose and, picking up one of the shirts, gave it a minute examination. It was of very heavy silk, yellow,

with a pale blue stripe and there were nearly a dozen of them. He stared involuntarily at his own

shirtcuffs they were ragged and linty at the edges and soiled to a faint gray. Dropping the silk shirt, he

held his coatsleeves down and worked the frayed shirtcuffs up till they were out of sight. Then he went to

the mirror and looked at himself with listless, unhappy interest. His tie, of former glory, was faded and

thumbcreased it served no longer to hide the jagged buttonholes of his collar. He thought, quite without

amusement, that only three years before he had received a scattering vote in the senior elections at college for

"Passed her in the lobby and couldn't think of her name to save my neck. That girl you brought up to New

"'At's the one. Damn good looking. She's still sort of a pretty doll you know what I mean: as if you touched

He surveyed his shining self complacently in the mirror, smiled faintly, exposing a section of teeth.

"What? Oh, last month. Well, I imagine she's down for the Gamma Psi dance. Did you know we're having a

Yale Gamma Psi dance tonight at Delmonico's? You better come up, Gordy. Half of New Haven'll probably

Draping himself reluctantly in fresh underwear, Dean lit a cigarette and sat down by the open window,

inspecting his calves and knees under the morning sunshine which poured into the room.

"Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about what you've been doing and what you're doing now

Gordon collapsed unexpectedly upon the bed; lay there inert and spiritless. His mouth, which habitually

dropped a little open when his face was in repose, became suddenly helpless and pathetic.

"Every God damn thing in the world," he said miserably. "I've absolutely gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in."

"I am. I've made a hell of a mess of everything." He paused. "I'd better start at the beginning or will it bore

"Not at all; go on." There was, however, a hesitant note in Dean's voice. This trip East had been planned for a

"Well," began Gordon unsteadily, "I got back from France in February, went home to Harrisburg for a month,

and then came down to New York to get a job. I got one with an export company. They fired me

You're about the only man I can turn to in a matter like this. You won't mind if I just tell you frankly, will

Dean stiffened a bit more. The pats he was bestowing on his knees grew perfunctory. He felt vaguely that he

was being unfairly saddled with responsibility; he was not even sure he wanted to be told. Though never

surprised at finding Gordon Sterrett in mild difficulty, there was something in this present misery that

"Hm." Dean resolved that nothing was going to spoil his trip. If Gordon was going to be depressing, then he'd

"Her name is Jewel Hudson," went on the distressed voice from the bed. "She used to be `pure,' I guess, up to

about a year ago. Lived here in New York poor family. Her people are dead now and she lives with an old

aunt. You see it was just about the time I met her that everybody began to come back from France in droves

and all I did was to welcome the newly arrived and go on parties with 'em. That's the way it started, Phil,

"I know," Gordon paused, and then continued listlessly. "I'm on my own now, you know, and Phil, I can't

stand being poor. Then came this darn girl. She sort of fell in love with me for a while and, though I never

intended to get so involved, I'd always seem to run into her somewhere. You can imagine the sort of work I

was doing for those exporting people of course, I always intended to draw; do illustrating for magazines;

"Why didn't you? You've got to buckle down if you want to make good," suggested Dean with cold

"I tried, a little, but my stuff's crude. I've got talent, Phil; I can draw but I just don't know how. I ought to

go to art school and I can't afford it. Well, things came to a crisis about a week ago. Just as I was down to

about my last dollar this girl began bothering me. She wants some money; claims she can make trouble for

"I'm afraid she can. That's one reason I lost my job she kept calling up the office all the time, and that was

sort of the last straw down there. She's got a letter all written to send to my family. Oh, she's got me, all right.

There was an awkward pause. Gordon lay very still, his hands clenched by his side.

"I'm all in," he continued, his voice trembling. "I'm half crazy, Phil. If I hadn't known you were coming East,

Dean's hands, which had been patting his bare ankles, were suddenly quiet and the curious uncertainty

"Yes, that sounds easy, but she's got a couple of drunken letters I wrote her. Unfortunately she's not at all the

"You've got to look at things as they are. If you haven't got money you've got to work and stay away from

women." "That's easy for you to say," began Gordon, his eyes narrowing. "You've got all the money in the

"I most certainly have not. My family keep darn close tab on what I spend. Just because I have a little leeway

"I'm no prig, Lord knows," he went on deliberately. "I like pleasure and I like a lot of it on a vacation like

this, but you're you're in awful shape. I never heard you talk just this way before. You seem to be sort of

"There's a regular aura about you that I don't understand. It's a sort of evil."

"It's an air of worry and poverty and sleepless nights," said Gordon, rather defiantly.

"Oh, I admit I'm depressing. I depress myself. But, my God, Phil, a week's rest and a new suit and some ready

money and I'd be like like I was. Phil, I can draw like a streak, and you know it. But half the time I haven't

had the money to buy decent drawing materials and I can't draw when I'm tired and discouraged and all in.

"I can't decide right off. That's a lot of money and it'll be darn inconvenient for me."

"It'll be hell for me if you can't I know I'm whining, and it's all my own fault but that doesn't change it."

"Of course, I could promise to send it back next month, but I'd better say three months. Just as soon as I

A new hardness in Dean's voice sent a faint chill of doubt over Gordon. Was it possible that he wouldn't get

"Do you suppose if I wasn't at the end of my rope I'd come to you like this? Do you think I'm enjoying it?"

He broke off and bit his lip, feeling that he had better subdue the rising anger in his voice. After all, he was

"You seem to manage it pretty easily," said Dean angrily. "You put me in the position where, if I don't lend it

to you, I'm a sucker oh, yes, you do. And let me tell you it's no easy thing for me to get hold of three

hundred dollars. My income isn't so big but that a slice like that won't play the deuce with it."

He left his chair and began to dress, choosing his clothes carefully. Gordon stretched out his arms and

clenched the edges of the bed, fighting back a desire to cry out. His head was splitting and whirring, his

mouth was dry and bitter and he could feel the fever in his blood resolving itself into innumerable regular

Dean tied his tie precisely, brushed his eyebrows, and removed a piece of tobacco from his teeth with

solemnity. Next he filled his cigarette case, tossed the empty box thoughtfully into the waste basket, and

"Well, we'll go out and have some. We'll decide about that money later. I'm sick of the subject. I came East to

"Let's go over to the Yale Club," he continued moodily, and then added with an implied reproof:

"Oh, for Heaven's sake drop the subject for a while! No point in glooming on my whole trip. Here, here's

He took a fivedollar bill from his wallet and tossed it over to Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in

his pocket. There was an added spot of color in his cheeks, an added glow that was not fever. For an instant

before they turned to go out their eyes met and in that instant each found something that made him lower his

own glance quickly. For in that instant they quite suddenly and definitely hated each other.

Fifth Avenue and Fortyfourth Street swarmed with the noon crowd. The wealthy, happy sun glittered in

transient gold through the thick windows of the smart shops, lighting upon mesh bags and purses and strings

of pearls in gray velvet cases; upon gaudy feather fans of many colors; upon the laces and silks of expensive

dresses; upon the bad paintings and the fine period furniture in the elaborate show rooms of interior

Workinggirls, in pairs and groups and swarms, loitered by these windows, choosing their future boudoirs

from some resplendent display which included even a man's silk pajamas laid domestically across the bed.

They stood in front of the jewelry stores and picked out their engagement rings, and their wedding rings and

their platinum wrist watches, and then drifted on to inspect the feather fans and opera cloaks; meanwhile

All through the crowd were men in uniform, sailors from the great fleet anchored in the Hudson, soldiers with

divisional insignia from Massachusetts to California, wanting fearfully to be noticed, and finding the great

city thoroughly fed up with soldiers unless they were nicely massed into pretty formations and uncomfortable

Through this medley Dean and Gordon wandered; the former interested, made alert by the display of

humanity at its frothiest and gaudiest; the latter reminded of how often he had been one of the crowd, tired,

casually fed, overworked, and dissipated. To Dean the struggle was significant, young, cheerful; to Gordon it

In the Yale Club they met a group of their former classmates who greeted the visiting Dean vociferously.

Sitting in a semicircle of lounges and great chairs, they had a highball all around.

Gordon found the conversation tiresome and interminable. They lunched together en masse, warmed with

liquor as the afternoon began. They were all going to the Gamma Psi dance that night it promised to be the

"Edith Bradin's coming," said some one to Gordon. "Didn't she used to be an old flame of yours? Aren't you

"Yes." He tried to change the subject. "I see her brother occasionally. He's sort of a socialistic nut. Runs a

"Not like his gay sister, eh?" continued his eager informant. "Well, she's coming to night with a junior named

Gordon was to meet Jewel Hudson at eight o'clock he had promised to have some money for her. Several

times he glanced nervously at his wrist watch. At four, to his relief, Dean rose and announced that he was

going over to Rivers Brothers to buy some collars and ties. But as they left the Club another of the party

joined them, to Gordon's great dismay. Dean was in a jovial mood now, happy, expectant of the evening's

party, faintly hilarious. Over in Rivers' he chose a dozen neckties, selecting each one after long consultations

with the other man. Did he think narrow ties were coming back? And wasn't it a shame that Rivers couldn't

get any more Welsh Margotson collars? There never was a collar like the "Covington."

Gordon was in something of a panic. He wanted the money immediately. And he was now inspired also with

a vague idea of attending the Gamma Psi dance. He wanted to see Edith Edith whom he hadn't met since

one romantic night at the Harrisburg Country Club just before he went to France. The affair had died,

drowned in the turmoil of the war and quite forgotten in the arabesque of these three months, but a picture of

her, poignant, debonnaire, immersed in her own inconsequential chatter, recurred to him unexpectedly and

brought a hundred memories with it. It was Edith's face that he had cherished through college with a sort of

detached yet affectionate admiration. He had loved to draw her around his room had been a dozen sketches

of her playing golf, swimming he could draw her pert, arresting profile with his eyes shut.

"Well," said Dean genially, " I'm all set now. Think I'll go back to the hotel and get a shave, haircut, and

Gordon wondered if he was to be beaten after all. With difficulty he restrained himself from turning to the

man and snarling out, "Go on away, damn you!" In despair he suspected that perhaps Dean had spoken to

They went into the Biltmore a Biltmore alive with girls mostly from the West and South, the stellar

debutantes of many cities gathered for the dance of a famous fraternity of a famous university. But to Gordon

they were faces in a dream. He gathered together his forces for a last appeal, was about to come out with he

knew not what, when Dean suddenly excused himself to the other man and taking Gordon's arm led him aside.

"Gordy," he said quickly, "I've thought the whole thing over carefully and I've decided that I can't lend you

that money. I'd like to oblige you, but I don't feel I ought to it'd put a crimp in me for a month."

Gordon, watching him dully, wondered why he had never before noticed how much those upper teeth

He took out his wallet and deliberately counted out seventyfive dollars in bills.

"Here," he said, holding them out, "here's seventyfive; that makes eighty all together. That's all the actual

Gordon raised his clenched hand automatically, opened it as though it were a tongs he was holding, and

"I'll see you at the dance," continued Dean. "I've got to get along to the barber shop."

Dean began to smile, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded briskly and disappeared.

But Gordon stood there, his handsome face awry with distress, the roll of bills clenched tightly in his hand.

About nine o'clock of the same night two human beings came out of a cheap restaurant in Sixth Avenue.

They were ugly, illnourished, devoid of all except the very lowest form of intelligence, and without even

that animal exuberance that in itself brings color into life; they were lately verminridden, cold, and hungry

in a dirty town of a strange land; they were poor, friendless; tossed as driftwood from their births, they would

be tossed as driftwood to their deaths. They were dressed in the uniform of the United States Army, and on

the shoulder of each was the insignia of a drafted division from New Jersey, landed three days before.

The taller of the two was named Carrol Key, a name hinting that in his veins, however thinly diluted by

generations of degeneration, ran blood of some potentiality. But one could stare endlessly at the long,

chinless face, the dull, watery eyes, and high cheekbones, without finding a suggestion of either ancestral

His companion was aware and bandylegged, with rateyes and a muchbroken hooked nose. His defiant air

was obviously a pretense, a weapon of protection borrowed from that world of snarl and snap, of physical

Leaving the cafe they sauntered down Sixth Avenue, wielding toothpicks with great gusto and complete

"Where to?" asked Rose, in a tone which implied that he would not be surprised if Key suggested the South

"What you say we see if we can getta holda some liquor?" Prohibition was not yet. The ginger in the

"I got an idea," continued Key, after a moment's thought, "I got a brother somewhere."

"Yeah. He's an old fella." He meant that he was an elder brother. "He's a waiter in a hash joint."

"B'lieve me, I'm goin' to get this darn uniform off me tomorra. Never get me in it again, neither. I'm goin' to

As their combined finances were something less than five dollars, this intention can be taken largely as a

pleasant game of words, harmless and consoling. It seemed to please both of them, however, for they

reinforced it with chuckling and mention of personages high in biblical circles, adding such further emphasis

The entire mental pabulum of these two men consisted of an offended nasal comment extended through the

years upon the institution army, business, or poorhouse which kept them alive, and toward their

immediate superior in that institution. Until that very morning the institution had been the "government" and

the immediate superior had been the "Cap'n" from these two they had glided out and were now in the

vaguely uncomfortable state before they should adopt their next bondage. They were uncertain, resentful, and

somewhat ill at ease. This they hid by pretending an elaborate relief at being out of the army, and by assuring

each other that military discipline should never again rule their stubborn, libertyloving wills. Yet, as a

matter of fact, they would have felt more at home in a prison than in this newfound and unquestionable

Suddenly Key increased his gait. Rose, looking up and following his glance, discovered a crowd that was

collecting fifty yards down the street. Key chuckled and began to run in the direction of the crowd; Rose

thereupon also chuckled and his short bandy legs twinkled beside the long, awkward strides of his companion.

Reaching the outskirts of the crowd they immediately became an indistinguishable part of it. It was composed

of ragged civilians somewhat the worse for liquor, and of soldiers representing many divisions and many

stages of sobriety, all clustered around a gesticulating little Jew with long black whiskers, who was waving

his arms and delivering an excited but succinct harangue. Key and Rose, having wedged themselves into the

approximate parquet, scrutinized him with acute suspicion, as his words penetrated their common

" What have you got out a the war?" he was crying fiercely. "Look arounja, look arounja! Are you rich?

Have you got a lot of money offered you? no; you're lucky if you're alive and got both your legs; you're

lucky if you came back an' find your wife ain't gone off with some other fella that had the money to buy

himself out of the war! That's when you're lucky! Who got anything out of it except J. P. Morgan an' John D.

At this point the little Jew's oration was interrupted by the hostile impact of a fist upon the point of his

"God damn Bolsheviki!" cried the big soldierblacksmith who had delivered the blow. There was a rumble of

The Jew staggered to his feet, and immediately went down again before a halfdozen reachingin fists. This

time he stayed down, breathing heavily, blood oozing from his lip where it was cut within and without.

There was a riot of voices, and in a minute Rose and Key found themselves flowing with the jumbled crowd

down Sixth Avenue under the leadership of a thin civilian in a slouch hat and the brawny soldier who had

summarily ended the oration. The crowd had marvellously swollen to formidable proportions and a stream of

more noncommittal citizens followed it along the sidewalks lending their moral support by intermittent

"We're goin' to show 'em!" whispered Key delightedly to Rose, who repeated the phrase rapturously to a man

Down Sixth Avenue swept the procession, joined here and there by soldiers and marines, and now and then

by civilians, who came up with the inevitable cry that they were just out of the army themselves, as if

presenting it as a card of admission to a newly formed Sporting and Amusement Club.

Then the procession swerved down a cross street and headed for Fifth Avenue and the word filtered here and

The question went up the line and a moment later the answer floated back. Tolliver Hall was down on Tenth

Street. There was a bunch of other sojers who was goin' to break it up and was down there now!

But Tenth Street had a faraway sound and at the word a general groan went up and a score of the procession

dropped out. Among these were Rose and Key, who slowed down to a saunter and let the more enthusiastic

"I'd rather get some liquor," said Key as they halted and made their way to the sidewalk amid cries of "Shell

"Does your brother work around here?" asked Rose, assuming the air of one passing from the superficial to

"He oughta," replied Key. "I ain't seen him for a coupla years. I been out to Pennsylvania since. Maybe he

don't work at night anyhow. It's right along here. He can get us some o'right if he ain't gone."

They found the place after a few minutes' patrol of the street a shoddy tablecloth restaurant between Fifth

Avenue and Broadway. Here Key went inside to inquire for his brother George, while Rose waited on the

Rose nodded wisely, as if he'd expected as much. One should not be surprised at a capable man changing jobs

occasionally. He knew a waiter once there ensued a long conversation as they walked as to whether

waiters made more in actual wages than in tips it was decided that it depended on the social tone of the

joint wherein the waiter labored. After having given each other vivid pictures of millionaires dining at

Delmonico's and throwing away fiftydollar bills after their first quart of champagne, both men thought

privately of becoming waiters. In fact, Key's narrow brow was secreting a resolution to ask his brother to get

"A waiter can drink up all the champagne those fellas leave in bottles," suggested Rose with some relish, and

By the time they reached Delmonico's it was half past ten, and they were surprised to see a stream of taxis

driving up to the door one after the other and emitting marvelous, hatless young ladies, each one attended by

"It's a party," said Rose with some awe. "Maybe we better not go in. He'll be busy."

After some hesitation they entered what appeared to them to be the least elaborate door and, indecision

falling upon them immediately, stationed themselves nervously in an inconspicuous corner of the small

diningroom in which they found themselves. They took off their caps and held them in their hands. A cloud

of gloom fell upon them and both started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a

cometlike waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through another door on the other side.

There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He

turned, looked at them suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if prepared at any

Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was upstairs, he thought. There was a big dance going on in the main

Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the utmost suspicion; his first and most

George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were

not dull, they were alert and twinkling, and his manner was suave, indoor, and faintly superior. They

exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children. He seemed fairly interested, but not

impressed by the news that Carrol had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol.

"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been disposed of, "we want to get some booze,

At this Rose started to sit down in a convenient chair, but was hailed to his feet by the indignant George.

"Hey! Watch out, you! Can't sit down here! This room's all set for a twelve o'clock banquet."

"I ain't goin' to hurt it," said Rose resentfully. "I been through the delouser."

"Never mind," said George sternly, "if the head waiter seen me here talkin' he'd romp all over me."

The mention of the head waiter was full explanation to the other two; they fingered their overseas caps

"I tell you," said George, after a pause, "I got a place you can wait; you just come here with me."

They followed him out the far door, through a deserted pantry and up a pair of dark winding stairs, emerging

finally into a small room chiefly furnished by piles of pails and stacks of scrubbing brushes, and illuminated

by a single dim electric light. There he left them, after soliciting two dollars and agreeing to return in half an

"George is makin' money, I bet," said Key gloomily as he seated himself on an inverted pail. "I bet he's

"I'm goin' to see what's out here," said Rose, stepping cautiously toward the other door.

"I'll tell the world that's liquor," he said, after a moment of concentrated gazing.

It was a room about twice as large as the one they were in and in it was prepared a radiant feast of spirits.

There were long walls of alternating bottles set along two white covered tables; whiskey, gin, brandy, French

and Italian vermouths, and orange juice, not to mention an array of syphons and two great empty punch

"It's for this dance they're just starting," whispered Key; "hear the violins playin'? Say, boy, I wouldn't mind

They closed the door softly and exchanged a glance of mutual comprehension. There was no need of feeling

"Maybe we better wait till they start drinkin' 'em. They got 'em all laid out now, and they know how many of

They debated this point for several minutes. Rose was all for getting his hands on a bottle now and tucking it

under his coat before any one came into the room. Key, however, advocated caution. He was afraid he might

get his brother in trouble. If they waited till some of the bottles were opened it'd be all right to take one, and

While they were still engaged in argument George Key hurried through the room and, barely grunting at

them, disappeared by way of the green baize door. A minute later they heard several corks pop, and then the

"Just keep low, boys," he said quickly. "I'll have your stuff for you in five minutes."

As soon as his footsteps receded down the stairs, Rose, after a cautious look, darted into the room of delights

"Here's what I say," he said, as they sat radiantly digesting their first drink. "We'll wait till he comes up, and

we'll ask him if we can't just stay here and drink what he brings us see. We'll tell him we haven't got any

place to drink it see. Then we can sneak in there whenever there ain't nobody in that there room and tuck a

"Sure," agreed Rose enthusiastically. "Oh, boy! And if we want to we can sell it to sojers any time we want

They were silent for a moment thinking rosily of this idea. Then Key reached up and unhooked the collar of

She was still quite angry when she came out of the dressingroom and crossed the intervening parlor of

politeness that opened onto the hall angry not so much at the actual happening which was, after all, the

merest commonplace of her social existence, but because it had occurred on this particular night. She had no

quarrel with herself. She had acted with that correct mixture of dignity and reticent pity which she always

It had happened when their taxi was leaving the Biltmore hadn't gone half a block. He had lifted his right

arm awkwardly she was on his right side and attempted to settle it snugly around the crimson

furtrimmed opera cloak she wore. This in itself had been a mistake. It was inevitably more graceful for a

young man attempting to embrace a young lady of whose acquiescence he was not certain, to first put his far

His second faux pas was unconscious. She had spent the afternoon at the hairdresser's; the idea of any

calamity overtaking her hair was extremely repugnant yet as Peter made his unfortunate attempt the point

of his elbow had just faintly brushed it. That was his second faux pas. Two were quite enough.

He had begun to murmur. At the first murmur she had decided that he was nothing but a college boy Edith

was twentytwo, and anyhow, this dance, first of its kind since the war, was reminding her, with the

accelerating rhythm of its associations, of something else of another dance and another man, a man for

whom her feelings had been little more than a sadeyed, adolescent mooniness. Edith Bradin was falling in

So she came out of the dressingroom at Delmonico's and stood for a second in the doorway looking over the

shoulders of a black dress in front of her at the groups of Yale men who flitted like dignified black moths

around the head of the stairs. From the room she had left drifted out the heavy fragrance left by the passage to

and fro of many scented young beauties rich perfumes and the fragile memoryladen dust of fragrant

powders. This odor drifting out acquired the tang of cigarette smoke in the hall, and then settled sensuously

down the stairs and permeated the ballroom where the Gamma Psi dance was to be held. It was an odor she

knew well, exciting, stimulating, restlessly sweet the odor of a fashionable dance.

She thought of her own appearance. Her bare arms and shoulders were powdered to a creamy white. She

knew they looked very soft and would gleam like milk against the black backs that were to silhouette them

tonight. The hairdressing had been a success; her reddish mass of hair was piled and crushed and creased to

an arrogant marvel of mobile curves. Her lips were finely made of deep carmine; the irises of her eyes were

delicate, breakable blue, like china eyes. She was a complete, infinitely delicate, quite perfect thing of beauty,

She thought of what she would say tonight at this revel, faintly prestiged already by the sounds of high and

low laughter and slippered footsteps, and movements of couples up and down the stairs. She would talk the

language she had talked for many years her line made up of the current expressions, bits of journalese

and college slang strung together into an intrinsic whole, careless, faintly provocative, delicately sentimental.

She smiled faintly as she heard a girl sitting on the stairs near her say: "You don't know the half of it, dearie!"

And as she smiled her anger melted for a moment, and closing her eyes she drew in a deep breath of pleasure.

She dropped her arms to her side until they were faintly touching the sleek sheath that covered and suggested

her figure. She had never felt her own softness so much nor so enjoyed the whiteness of her own arms.

"I smell sweet," she said to herself simply, and then came another thought "I'm made for love."

She liked the sound of this and thought it again; then in inevitable succession came her newborn riot of

dreams about Gordon. The twist of her imagination which, two months before, had disclosed to her her

unguessed desire to see him again, seemed now to have been leading up to this dance, this hour.

For all her sleek beauty, Edith was a grave, slowthinking girl. There was a streak in her of that same desire

to ponder, of that adolescent idealism that had turned her brother socialist and pacifist. Henry Bradin had left

Cornell, where he had been an instructor in economics, and had come to New York to pour the latest cures

Edith, less fatuously, would have been content to cure Gordon Sterrett. There was a quality of weakness in

Gordon that she wanted to take care of; there was a helplessness in him that she wanted to protect. And she

wanted someone she had known a long while, someone who had loved her a long while. She was a little tired;

she wanted to get married. Out of a pile of letters, half a dozen pictures and as many memories, and this

weariness, she had decided that next time she saw Gordon their relations were going to be changed. She

would say something that would change them. There was this evening. This was her evening. All evenings

Then her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn undergraduate with a hurt look and an air of strained

formality who presented himself before her and bowed unusually low. It was the man she had come with,

Peter Himmel. He was tall and humorous, with hornedrimmed glasses and an air of attractive whimsicality.

She suddenly rather disliked him probably because he had not succeeded in kissing her.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know why I snapped out that way. I'm in a bum humor tonight for some

He felt disagreeably embarrassed. Was she rubbing in the fact of his late failure?

"It was a mistake," she continued, on the same consciously gentle key. "We'll both forget it." For this he

A few minutes later they drifted out on the floor while the dozen swaying, sighing members of the specially

hired jazz orchestra informed the crowded ballroom that "if a saxophone and me are left alone why then two

A man with a mustache cut in. "Hello," he began reprovingly. "You don't remember me."

"I met you up at " His voice trailed disconsolately off as a man with very fair hair cut in. Edith murmured a

The very fair man insisted on shaking hands enthusiastically. She placed him as one of the numerous Jims of

her acquaintance last name a mystery. She remembered even that he had a peculiar rhythm in dancing and

"Going to be here long?" he breathed confidentially. She leaned back and looked up at him.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he said gravely. "I should say I do. Your name's Harlan."

"Well, I knew there were two syllables anyway. You're the boy that played the ukulele so well up at Howard

A man with prominent teeth cut in. Edith inhaled a slight cloud of whiskey. She liked men to have had

something to drink; they were so much more cheerful, and appreciative and complimentary much easier to

"My name's Dean, Philip Dean," he said cheerfully. "You don't remember me, I know, but you used to come

"You've seen him, of course," said Dean carelessly. "He's here tonight. I saw him just a minute ago."

She had seen Gordon Gordon very white and listless, leaning against the side of a doorway, smoking and

looking into the ballroom. Edith could see that his face was thin and wan that the hand he raised to his lips

"Hello, Gordon," called Edith over her partner's shoulder. Her heart was pounding wildly.

His large dark eyes were fixed on her. He took a step in her direction. Her partner turned her away she

heard his voice bleating " but half the stags get lit and leave before long, so "

She was dancing suddenly with Gordon; one of his arms was around her; she felt it tighten spasmodically;

felt his hand on her back with the fingers spread. Her hand holding the little lace handkerchief was crushed in

She slipped again was tossed forward by her recovery until her face touched the black cloth of his dinner

coat. She loved him she knew she loved him then for a minute there was silence while a strange feeling

Of a sudden her heart wrenched, and turned over as she realized what it was. He was pitiful and wretched, a

His eyes looked down at her. She saw suddenly that they were bloodstreaked and rolling uncontrollably.

They were nearly in midfloor, but she had seen two men start toward her from opposite sides of the room,

so she halted, seized Gordon's limp hand and led him bumping through the crowd, her mouth tight shut, her

She found a place high up on the softcarpeted stairs, and he sat down heavily beside her.

"Well," he began, staring at her unsteadily, "I certainly am glad to see you, Edith."

She looked at him without answering. The effect of this on her was immeasurable. For years she had seen

men in various stages of intoxication, from uncles all the way down to chauffeurs, and her feelings had varied

from amusement to disgust, but here for the first time she was seized with a new feeling an unutterable

"All sorts of trouble. Don't you say anything to the family, but I'm all gone to pieces. I'm a mess, Edith."

"Can't you can't you," she hesitated, "can't you tell me about it, Gordon? You know I'm always interested

She bit her lip she had intended to say something stronger, but found at the end that she couldn't bring it

Gordon shook his head dully. "I can't tell you. You're a good woman. I can't tell a good woman the story."

"Rot," she said, defiantly. "I think it's a perfect insult to call any one a good woman in that way. It's a slam.

"I'm sorry I cut in on you its unfair to you. You're pure woman and all that sort of thing. Here, I'll get

He rose clumsily to his feet, but she reached up and pulled him down beside her on the stairs.

"Here, Gordon. You're ridiculous. You're hurting me. You're acting like a like a crazy man "

"I admit it. I'm a little crazy. Something's wrong with me, Edith. There's something left me. It doesn't matter."

"Just that. I was always queer little bit different from other boys. All right in college, but now it's all

wrong. Things have been snapping inside me for four months like little hooks on a dress, and it's about to

He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away from him.

"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a dream to me this Delmonico's "

As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light and gay and careless a great lethargy

and discouragement had come over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising boredom. His

"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist. Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith.

"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've

Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her first possible cue to rise.

"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong effort at selfcontrol, "I can't tell you what it

"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always glad to see an old friend but I'm sorry to

There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary eagerness in his eyes wavered. She

Love is fragile she was thinking but perhaps the pieces are saved, the things that hovered on lips, that

might have been said. The new love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next lover.

Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being snubbed; having been snubbed, he was

hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery

terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and explanation of the special delivery letter is its

value in sentimental correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He searched in vain

for any reason why she should have taken this attitude in the matter of a simple kiss.

Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the mustache he went out into the hall and, making up a

sentence, said it over to himself several times. Considerably deleted, this was it:

"Well, if any girl ever led a man on and then jolted him, she did and she has no kick coming if I go out and

So he walked through the supper room into a small room adjoining it, which he had located earlier in the

evening. It was a room in which there were several large bowls of punch flanked by many bottles. He took a

At the second highball, boredom, disgust, the monotony of time, the turbidity of events, sank into a vague

background before which glittering cobwebs formed. Things became reconciled to themselves, things lay

quietly on their shelves; the troubles of the day arranged themselves in trim formation and at his curt wish of

dismissal, marched off and disappeared. And with the departure of worry came brilliant, permeating

symbolism. Edith became a flighty, negligible girl, not to be worried over; rather to be laughed at. She fitted

like a figure of his own dream into the surface world forming about him. He himself became in a measure

Then the symbolic mood faded and as he sipped his third highball his imagination yielded to the warm glow

and he lapsed into a state similar to floating on his back in pleasant water. It was at this point that he noticed

that a green baize door near him was open about two inches, and that through the aperture a pair of eyes were

The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of tense intermittent whispers.

He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a mystery. Affecting an elaborate

carelessness he arose and walked around the table then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door,

Private Rose set one foot slightly in front of the other, poised for fight, flight, or compromise.

"I got a friend," said Rose, "I got a friend in there." He pointed to the green door.

Peter crossed over, opened the door and welcomed in Private Key, very suspicious and uncertain and guilty.

Chairs were found and the three took their seats around the punch bowl. Peter gave them each a highball and

offered them a cigarette from his case. They accepted both with some diffidence.

"Now," continued Peter easily, "may I ask why you gentlemen prefer to lounge away your leisure hours in a

room which is chiefly furnished, as far as I can see, with scrubbing brushes. And when the human race has

progressed to the stage where seventeen thousand chairs are manufactured on every day except Sunday "

he paused. Rose and Key regarded him vacantly. "Will you tell me," went on Peter, "why you choose to rest

yourselves on articles intended for the transportation of water from one place to another?"

"And lastly," finished Peter, "will you tell me why, when you are in a building beautifully hung with

enormous candelabra, you prefer to spend these evening hours under one anemic electric light?"

Rose looked at Key; Key looked at Rose. They laughed; they laughed uproariously; they found it was

impossible to look at each other without laughing. But they were not laughing with this man they were

laughing at him. To them a man who talked after this fashion was either raving drunk or raving crazy.

"You are Yale men, I presume," said Peter, finishing his highball and preparing another.

"So? I thought perhaps you might be members of that lowly section of the university known as the Sheffield

"Hm. Well, that's too bad. No doubt you are Harvard men, anxious to preserve your incognito in this this

"It's all right," Peter reassured them, "don't apologize. A scrub lady's as good as any lady in the world.

"My case, for instance," continued Peter, finishing his glass. "I got a girl up here that's spoiled. Spoildest darn

girl I ever saw. Refused to kiss me; no reason whatsoever. Led me on deliberately to think sure I want to kiss

"We got in a sort of fight for a while," said Key after a pause, "but it was too far away."

"A fight? tha's stuff!" said Peter, seating himself unsteadily. "Fight 'em all! I was in the army."

"Tha's stuff!" exclaimed Peter, enthusiastic. "That's what I say! Kill the Bolshevik! Exterminate 'em!"

"Sure," said Peter. "Greatest race in the world! We're all Americuns! Have another."

At one o'clock a special orchestra, special even in a day of special orchestras, arrived at Delmonico's, and its

members, seating themselves arrogantly around the piano, took up the burden of providing music for the

Gamma Psi Fraternity. They were headed by a famous fluteplayer, distinguished throughout New York for

his feat of standing on his head and shimmying with his shoulders while he played the latest jazz on his flute.

During his performance the lights were extinguished except for the spotlight on the fluteplayer and another

roving beam that threw flickering shadows and changing kaleidoscopic colors over the massed dancers.

Edith had danced herself into that tired, dreamy state habitual only with debutantes, a state equivalent to the

glow of a noble soul after several long highballs. Her mind floated vaguely on the bosom of her music; her

partners changed with the unreality of phantoms under the colorful shifting dusk, and to her present coma it

seemed as if days had passed since the dance began. She had talked on many fragmentary subjects with many

men. She had been kissed once and made love to six times. Earlier in the evening different undergraduates

had danced with her, but now, like all the more popular girls there, she had her own entourage that is, half

a dozen gallants had singled her out or were alternating her charms with those of some other chosen beauty;

Several times she had seen Gordon he had been sitting a long time on the stairway with his palm to his

head, his dull eyes fixed at an infinite speck onthe floor before him, very depressed, he looked, and quite

drunk but Edith each time had averted her glance hurriedly. All that seemed long ago; her mind was

passive now, her senses were lulled to trancelike sleep; only her feet danced and her voice talked on in hazy

But Edith was not nearly so tired as to be incapable of moral indignation when Peter Himmel cut in on her,

"Why, Peter, you're a peach, you are! Don't you think it's a bum way of doing when you're with me?"

Then she smiled unwillingly, for he was looking at her with owlish sentimentality varied with a silly

His embarrassment, his shame, were both gone. She was a mos' beautiful girl in whole worl'. Mos' beautiful

eyes, like stars above. He wanted to 'pologize firs', for presuming try to kiss her; second, for drinking

but he'd been so discouraged 'cause he had thought she was mad at him The redfat man cut in, and

"Well, would you mind would it be an awful bother for you to to take me home tonight?" (this extreme

diffidence was a charming affectation on Edith's part she knew that the redfat man would immediately

She glanced at her wristwatch. It was halfpast one. And, as she said "halfpast one" to herself, it floated

vaguely into her mind that her brother had told her at luncheon that he worked in the office of his newspaper

This verified what she had thought. Henry's office must be across the street and just around the corner, and it

occurred to her immediately that she might slip over for a moment and surprise him, float in on him, a

shimmering marvel in her new crimson opera cloak and "cheer him up." It was exactly the sort of thing Edith

revelled in doing an unconventional, jaunty thing. The idea reached out and gripped at her imagination

"My hair is just about to tumble entirely down," she said pleasantly to her partner; "would you mind if I go

A few minutes later, wrapped in her crimson opera cloak, she flitted down a sidestairs, her cheeks glowing

with excitement at her little adventure. She ran by a couple who stood at the door a weakchinned waiter

and an overrouged young lady, in hot dispute and opening the outer door stepped into the warm May

The overrouged young lady followed her with a brief, bitter glance then turned again to the

"You better go up and tell him I'm here," she said defiantly, "or I'll go up myself."

"Oh, I don't, don't I? Well, let me tell you I know more college fellas and more of 'em know me, and are glad

"Maybe so," she interrupted. "Oh, it's all right for any of 'em like that one that just ran out God knows

where she went it's all right for them that are asked here to come or go as they like but when I want to

see a friend they have some cheap, hamslinging, bringmeadoughnut waiter to stand here and keep me

"See here," said the elder Key indignantly, "I can't lose my job. Maybe this fella you're talkin' about doesn't

"Oh, he'll be there," she asserted confidently. "You just ask anybody for Gordon Sterrett and they'll point him

"Here," she said, "here's a bribe. You find him and give him my message. You tell him if he isn't here in five

George shook his head pessimistically, considered the question for a moment, wavered violently, and then

In less than the allotted time Gordon came downstairs. He was drunker than he had been earlier in the

evening and in a different way. The liquor seemed to have hardened on him like a crust. He was heavy and

"'Lo, Jewel," he said thickly. "Came right away. Jewel, I couldn't get that money. Tried my best."

"Money nothing!" she snapped. " You haven't been near me for ten days. What's the matter?"

"Why didn't you tell me if you were sick. I don't care about the money that bad. I didn't start bothering you

"Haven't! You haven't been near me for three weeks, unless you been so drunk you didn't know what you

"You're well enough to come and play with your society friends here all right. You told me you'd meet me for

dinner, and you said you'd have some money for me. You didn't even bother to ring me up."

"Haven't I just been saying that doesn't matter? I wanted to see you, Gordon, but you seem to prefer your

Gordon hesitated and she came suddenly close to him and slipped her arms around his neck.

"Come on with me, Gordon," she said in a half whisper. "We'll go over to Devineries' and have a drink, and

With a glance around him in which relief and despair were mingled, Gordon hesitated; then she suddenly

When Edith came out into the clear blue of the May night she found the Avenue deserted. The windows of

the big shops were dark; over their doors were drawn great iron masks until they were only shadowy tombs of

the late day's splendor. Glancing down toward Fortysecond Street she saw a commingled blur of lights from

the allnight restaurants. Over on Sixth Avenue the elevated, a flare of fire, roared across the street between

the glimmering parallels of light at the station and streaked along into the crisp dark. But at Fortyfourth

Pulling her cloak close about her Edith darted across the Avenue. She started nervously as a solitary man

passed her and said in a hoarse whisper "Where bound, kid do?" She was reminded of a night in her

childhood when she had walked around the block in her pajamas and a dog had howled at her from a

In a minute she had reached her destination, a twostory, comparatively old building on Fortyfourth, in the

upper window of which she thankfully detected a wisp of light. It was bright enough outside for her to make

out the sign beside the window the New York Trumpet. She stepped inside a dark hall and after a second

Then she was in a long, low room furnished with many desks and hung on all sides with file copies of

newspapers. There were only two occupants. They were sitting at different ends of the room, each wearing a

For a moment she stood uncertainly in the doorway, and then both men turned around simultaneously and she

"Why, Edith!" He rose quickly and approached her in surprise, removing his eyeshade. He was tall, lean,

and dark, with black, piercing eyes under very thick glasses. They were faraway eyes that seemed always

"I was at a dance across at Delmonico's, Henry," she said excitedly, "and I couldn't resist tearing over to see

"I'm glad you did." His alertness gave way quickly to a habitual vagueness. " You oughtn't to be out alone at

The man at the other end of the room had been looking at them curiously, but at Henry's beckoning gesture

he approached. He was loosely fat with little twinkling eyes, and, having removed his collar and tie, he gave

"How do you do?" said the fat man, smiling. "My name's Bartholomew, Miss Bradin. I know your brother

"The bombs?" repeated Bartholomew, laughing. "That's pretty good the bombs. Did you hear her, Henry?

Edith swung herself onto a vacant desk and sat dangling her feet over the edge. Her brother took a seat beside

"Not bad. I'll be over at the Biltmore with the Hoyts until Sunday. Can't you come to luncheon tomorrow?"

Bartholomew was obviously anxious to return to his desk, but apparently considered that it would be rude to

"You should have come earlier," continued Bartholomew, somewhat encouraged. "We had a regular

"A serenade," said Henry. "A lot of soldiers gathered down there in the street and began to yell at the sign."

"Just a crowd," said Henry, abstractedly. "All crowds have to howl. They didn't have anybody with much

initiative in the lead, or they'd probably have forced their way in here and smashed things up."

He seemed to consider this a sufficient cue for withdrawal, for he turned abruptly and went back to his desk.

"Are the soldiers all set against the Socialists?" demanded Edith of her brother. "I mean do they attack you

"The human race has come a long way," he said casually, "but most of us are throwbacks; the soldiers don't

know what they want, or what they hate, or what they like. They're used to acting in large bodies, and they

seem to have to make demonstrations. So it happens to be against us. There've been riots all over the city

"Not a bit," he said scornfully. "About twentyfive of them stopped in the street about nine o'clock, and

"Not at all. Have a good time while you're young. Why? Do I seem like the priggish and earnest youth?"

"No " She paused, " but somehow I began thinking how absolutely different the party I'm on is from

from all your purposes. It seems sort of of incongruous, doesn't it? me being at a party like that, and

you over here working for a thing that'll make that sort of party impossible ever any more, if your ideas

"I don't think of it that way. You're young, and you're acting just as you were brought up to act. Go ahead

"I wish you'd you'd come back to Harrisburg and have a good time. Do you feel sure that you're on the

"They're embroidered," she replied, glancing down. "Aren't they cunning?" She raised her skirts and

She paused. Bartholomew had uttered a grunt. She turned and saw that he had left his desk and was standing

"They're not," said Edith, peering from the window. "They're not even thinking of going away. There's more

By the yellow glow and blue shadows of the street lamp she could see that the sidewalk was crowded with

men. They were mostly in uniform, some sober, some enthusiastically drunk, and over the whole swept an

Henry rose, and going to the window exposed himself as a long silhouette against the office lights.

Immediately the shouting became a steady yell, and a rattling fusillade of small missiles, corners of tobacco

plugs, cigaretteboxes, and even pennies beat against the window. The sounds of the racket now began

The next five minutes passed in a dream. Edith was conscious that the clamor burst suddenly upon the three

of them like a cloud of rain, that there was a thunder of many feet on the stairs, that Henry had seized her arm

and drawn her back toward the rear of the office. Then the door opened and an overflow of men were forced

She noticed that two very drunken soldiers had been forced to the front, where they wobbled fatuously one

"Friends!" he repeated, his faraway eyes fixed over the heads of the crowd, "you're injuring no one but

yourselves by breaking in here tonight. Do we look like rich men? Do we look like Germans? I ask you in

A man in civilian clothes, who had been pawing over a table, suddenly held up a newspaper.

A new overflow from the stairs was shouldered in and of a sudden the room was full of men all closing

around the pale little group at the back. Edith saw that the tall soldier with the weak chin was still in front.

She edged slightly backward, stood close to the open window, through which came a clear breath of cool

Then the room was a riot. She realized that the soldiers were surging forward, glimpsed the fat man swinging

a chair over his head instantly the lights went out, and she felt the push of warm bodies under rough cloth,

A figure flashed by her out of nowhere, tottered, was edged sideways, and of a sudden disappeared helplessly

out through the open window with a frightened, fragmentary cry that died staccato on the bosom of the

clamor. By the faint light streaming from the building backing on the area Edith had a quick impression that

Anger rose astonishingly in her. She swung her arms wildly, edged blindly toward the thickest of the

Then, it was minutes later, she felt suddenly that there were other figures in the room. She heard a voice,

deep, bullying, authoritative; she saw yellow rays of light sweeping here and there in the fracas. The cries

Suddenly the lights were on and the room was full of policemen, clubbing left and right. The deep voice

The room seemed to empty like a washbowl. A policeman fastgrappled in the corner released his hold on

his soldier antagonist and started him with a shove toward the door. The deep voice continued. Edith

perceived now that it came from a bullnecked police captain standing near the door.

"Here now! This is no way! One of your own sojers got shoved out of the back window an' killed hisself!"

She beat wildly with her fists on the back of the man in front of her; she brushed between two others; fought,

shrieked, and beat her way to a very pale figure sitting on the floor close to a desk.

"Henry," she cried passionately, "what's the matter? What's the matter? Did they hurt you?"

"Childs', Fiftyninth Street," at eight o'clock of any morning differs from its sisters by less than the width of

their marble tables or the degree of polish on the fryingpans. You will see there a crowd of poor people with

sleep in the comers of their eyes, trying to look straight before them at their food so as not to see the other

poor people. But Childs', Fiftyninth, four hours earlier is quite unlike any Childs' restaurant from Portland,

Oregon, to Portland, Maine. Within its pale but sanitary walls one finds a noisy medley of chorus girls,

college boys, d�butantes, rakes, filles de joie a not unrepresentative mixture of the gayest of Broadway,

In the early morning of May the second it was unusually full. Over the marbletopped tables were bent the

excited faces of flappers whose fathers owned individual villages. They were eating buckwheat cakes and

scrambled eggs with relish and gusto, an accomplishment that it would have been utterly impossible for them

Almost the entire crowd were from the Gamma Psi dance at Delmonico's except for several chorus girls from

a midnight revue who sat at a side table and wished they'd taken off a little more makeup after the show.

Here and there a drab, mouselike figure, desperately out of place, watched the butterflies with a weary,

puzzled curiosity. But the drab figure was the exception. This was the morning after May Day, and

Gus Rose, sober but a little dazed, must be classed as one of the drab figures. How he had got himself from

Fortyfourth Street to Fiftyninth Street after the riot was only a hazy halfmemory. He had seen the body of

Carrol Key put in an ambulance and driven off, and then he had started up town with two or three soldiers.

Somewhere between Fortyfourth Street and Fiftyninth Street the other soldiers had met some women and

disappeared. Rose had wandered to Columbus Circle and chosen the gleaming lights of Childs' to minister to

All around him floated airy, inconsequential chatter and highpitched laughter. At first he failed to

understand, but after a puzzled five minutes he realized that this was the aftermath of some gay party. Here

and there a restless, hilarious young man wandered fraternally and familiarly between the tables, shaking

hands indiscriminately and pausing occasionally for a facetious chat, while excited waiters, bearing cakes and

eggs aloft, swore at him silently, and bumped him out of the way. To Rose, seated at the most inconspicuous

and least crowded table, the whole scene was a colorful circus of beauty and riotous pleasure.

He became gradually aware, after a few moments, that the couple seated diagonally across from him, with

their backs to the crowd, were not the least interesting pair in the room. The man was drunk. He wore a

dinner coat with a dishevel led tie and shirt swollen by spillings of water and wine. His eyes, dim and

bloodshot, roved unnaturally from side to side. His breath came short between his lips.

The woman was almost if not quite sober. She was pretty, with dark eyes and feverish high color, and she

kept her active eyes fixed on her companion with the alertness of a hawk. From time to time she would lean

and whisper intently to him, and he would answer by inclining his head heavily or by a particularly ghoulish

Rose scrutinized them dumbly for some minutes, until the woman gave him a quick, resentful look; then he

shifted his gaze to two of the most conspicuously hilarious of the promenaders who were on a protracted

circuit of the tables. To his surprise he recognized in one of them the young man by whom he had been so

ludicrously entertained at Delmonico's. This started him thinking of Key with a vague sentimentality, not

unmixed with awe. Key was dead. He had fallen thirtyfive feet and split his skull like a cracked cocoanut.

"He was a darn good guy," thought Rose mournfully. "He was a darn good guy, o'right. That was awful hard

The two promenaders approached and started down between Rose's table and the next, addressing friends and

strangers alike with jovial familiarity. Suddenly Rose saw the fairhaired one with the prominent teeth stop,

look unsteadily at the man and girl opposite, and then begin to move his head disapprovingly from side to

Prominent Teeth shook his finger pessimistically at the pair, giving the woman a glance of aloof

"So's he," suggested Dean, staying the motion of his finger and pointing it at Gordon.

"Here now," he began as if called upon to deal with some petty dispute between children. "Wha's all trouble?"

Her rising voice rang out above the clatter of the restaurant and a waiter came hurrying up.

"Ahha, Gordy," persisted the accused. "What'd I tell you." He turned to the waiter. "Gordy an' I friends.

"Come on, Gordy!" she said, leaning toward him and speaking in a half whisper. "Let's us get out of here.

Gordon allowed himself to be urged to his feet and started toward the door. Jewel turned for a second and

"I know all about you!" she said fiercely. "Nice friend, you are, I'll say. He told me about you."

Then she seized Gordon's arm, and together they made their way through the curious crowd, paid their check,

Peter suddenly reached over to a plate on the table beside him and picking up a handful of hash tossed it into

the air. It descended as a languid parabola in snowflake effect on the heads of those near by.

"Thank you for your kind applause, ladies and gents. If some one will lend me some more hash and a tall hat

The bouncer released his hold on Peter, who, adopting a ludicrous air of extreme cunning, rushed

immediately around to the other table, where he burst into derisive laughter and thumbed his nose at the

"Think I just better wait a l'il' longer," he announced. The chase began. Four waiters were sent around one

way and four another. Dean caught hold of two of them by the coat, and another struggle took place before

the pursuit of Peter could be resumed; he was finally pinioned after overturning a sugarbowl and several

cups of coffee. A fresh argument ensued at the cashier's desk, where Peter attempted to buy another dish of

But the commotion upon his exit proper was dwarfed by another phenomenon which drew admiring glances

The great plateglass front had turned to a deep creamy blue, the color of a Maxfield Parrish moonlight a

blue that seemed to press close upon the pane as if to crowd its way into the restaurant. Dawn had come up in

Columbus Circle, magical, breathless dawn, silhouetting the great statue of the immortal Christopher, and

mingling in a curious and uncanny manner with the fading yellow electric light inside.

Mr. In and Mr. Out are not listed by the censustaker. You will search for them in vain through the social

testimony that they ever existed at all is vague and shadowy, and inadmissible in a court of law. Yet I have it

upon the best authority that for a brief space Mr. In and Mr. Out lived, breathed, answered to their names and

During the brief span of their lives they walked in their native garments down the great highway of a great

nation; were laughed at, sworn at, chased, and fled from. Then they passed and were heard of no more.

They were already taking form dimly, when a taxicab with the top open breezed down Broadway in the

faintest glimmer of May dawn. In this car sat the souls of Mr. In and Mr. Out discussing with amazement the

blue light that had so precipitately colored the sky behind the statue of Christopher Columbus, discussing

with bewilderment the old, gray faces of the early risers which skimmed palely along the street like blown

bits of paper on a gray lake. They were agreed on all things, from the absurdity of the bouncer in Childs' to

the absurdity of the business of life. They were dizzy with the extreme maudlin happiness that the morning

had awakened in their glowing souls. Indeed, so fresh and vigorous was their pleasure in living that they felt

"Yeowow!" hooted Peter, making a megaphone with his hands and Dean joined in with a call that,

though equally significant and symbolic, derived its resonance from its very inarticulateness.

Fiftythird Street was a bus with a dark, bobbedhair beauty atop; Fiftysecond was a street cleaner who

dodged, escaped, and sent up a yell of, "Look where you're aimin' ! " in a pained and grieved voice. At

Fiftieth Street a group of men on a very white sidewalk in front of a very white building turned to stare after

At Fortyninth Street Peter turned to Dean. "Beautiful morning," he said gravely, squinting up his owlish

"Breakfast and liquor," repeated Peter, and they looked at each other, nodding. "That's logical."

The taxi cut suddenly off Broadway, sailed along a cross street, and stopped in front of a heavy tomblike

This was somewhat puzzling. They were forced to devote several minutes to intense concentration, for if such

That was it. Peter's overcoat and hat. He had left them at Delmonico's. Having decided this, they disembarked

The taxidriver objected; he wanted his money now. With the scornful condescension of men exercising

Inside Peter groped in vain through a dim, deserted checkroom in search of his coat and derby.

"Never mind," said Dean, nobly. "I'll leave mine here too then we'll both be dressed the same."

He removed his overcoat and hat and was hanging them up when his roving glance was caught and held

magnetically by two large squares of cardboard tacked to the two coatroom doors. The one on the lefthand

door bore the word "In" in big black letters, and the one on the righthand door flaunted the equally emphatic

Peter removed the lefthand sign from the door and endeavored to conceal it about his person. The sign being

of considerable proportions, this was a matter of some difficulty. An idea flung itself at him, and with an air

of dignified mystery he turned his back. After an instant he wheeled dramatically around, and stretching out

his arms displayed himself to the admiring Dean. He had inserted the sign in his vest, completely covering his

shirt front. In effect, the word "In" had been painted upon his shirt in large black letters.

They advanced and shook hands. Again laughter overcame them and they rocked in a shaken spasm of mirth.

Arm in arm they sallied out the door, and turning east in Fortyfourth Street set out for the Commodore.

As they came out a short dark soldier, very pale and tired, who had been wandering listlessly along the

He started over as though to address them, but as they immediately bent on him glances of withering

unrecognition, he waited until they had started unsteadily down the street, and then followed at about forty

paces, chuckling to himself and saying "Oh, boy!" over and over under his breath, in delighted, anticipatory

Mr. In and Mr. Out were meanwhile exchanging pleasantries concerning their future plans.

"We want liquor; we want breakfast. Neither without the other. One and indivisible."

It was quite light now, and passersby began to bend curious eyes on the pair. Obviously they were engaged

in a discussion, which afford each of them intense amusement, for occasionally a fit of laughter would seize

upon them so violently that, still with their arms interlocked, they would bend nearly double.

Reaching the Commodore, they exchanged a few spicy epigrams with the sleepyeyed doorman, navigated

the revolving door with some difficulty, and then made their way through a thinly populated but startled

lobby to the diningroom, where a puzzled waiter showed them an obscure table in a corner. They studied the

bill of fare helplessly, telling over the items to each other in puzzled mumbles.

"Repeat," continued Peter, with patient tolerance, "that there seems to be unexplained and quite distasteful

"Here!" said Dean confidently, "let me handle him." He turned to the waiter "Bring us bring us " he

scanned the bill of fare anxiously. "Bring us a quart of champagne and a a probably ham sandwich."

The waiter coughed and disappeared. There was a short wait during which they were subjected without their

knowledge to a careful scrutiny by the headwaiter. Then the champagne arrived, and at the sight of it Mr. In

They both concentrated upon the vision of such an awesome possibility, but the feat was too much for them.

It was impossible for their joint imaginations to conjure up a world where any one might object to any one

else having champagne for breakfast. The waiter drew the cork with an enormous pop and their glasses

The waiter withdrew; the minutes passed; the champagne became low in the bottle.

Again they collapsed into laughter, howled, swayed, rocked back and forth in their chairs, repeating the word

"mortifying" over and over to each other each repetition seeming to make it only more brilliantly absurd.

After a few more gorgeous minutes they decided on another quart. Their anxious waiter consulted his

immediate superior, and this discreet person gave implicit instructions that no more champagne should be

Five minutes later, arm in arm, they left the Commodore and made their way through a curious, staring crowd

along Fortysecond Street, and up Vanderbilt Avenue to the Biltmore. There, with sudden cunning, they rose

to the occasion and traversed the lobby, walking fast and standing unnaturally erect.

Once in the diningroom they repeated their performance. They were torn between intermittent convulsive

laughter and sudden spasmodic discussions of politics, college, and the sunny state of their dispositions. Their

watches told them that it was now nine o'clock, and a dim idea was born in them that they were on a

memorable party, something that they would remember always. They lingered over the second bottle. Either

of them had only to mention the word "mortifying" to send them both into riotous gasps. The diningroom

was whirring and shifting now; a curious lightness permeated and rarefied the heavy air.

It was at this moment that the exterior doors revolved for the thousandth time that morning, and admitted into

the lobby a very pale young beauty with dark circles under her eyes, attired in a muchrumpled evening

dress. She was accompanied by a plain stout man, obviously not an appropriate escort.

"Edith," began Mr. In, stepping toward her hilariously and making a sweeping bow, " darling, good morning."

The stout man glanced questioningly at Edith, as if merely asking her permission to throw this man

Mr. Out advanced and bowed; in fact, he advanced so far and bowed so low that he tipped slightly forward

But Edith stared straight by them, her eyes fixed on some infinite speck in the gallery above her. She nodded

slightly to the stout man, who advanced bulllike and with a sturdy brisk gesture pushed Mr. In and Mr. Out to

But ten paces farther on Edith stopped again stopped and pointed to a short, dark soldier who was eying

the crowd in general, and the tableau of Mr. In and Mr. Out in particular, with a sort of puzzled, spellbound

There were a dozen exclamations; a man in a cutaway coat left his place near the desk and advanced alertly;

the stout person made a sort of lightninglike spring toward the short, dark soldier, and then the lobby closed

But to Mr. In and Mr. Out this event was merely a particolored iridescent segment of a whirring, spinning

They heard loud voices; they saw the stout man spring; the picture suddenly blurred.

In a bedroom of a small hotel just off Sixth Avenue Gordon Sterrett awoke with a pain in the back of his head

and a sick throbbing in all his veins. He looked at the dusky gray shadows in the corners of the room and at a

raw place on a large leather chair in the corner where it had long been in use. He saw clothes, dishevelled,

rumpled clothes on the floor and he smelt stale cigarette smoke and stale liquor. The windows were tight

shut. Outside the bright sunlight had thrown a dustfilled beam across the sill a beam broken by the head

of the wide wooden bed in which he had slept. He lay very quiet comatose, drugged, his eyes wide, his

It must have been thirty seconds after he perceived the sunbeam with the dust on it and the rip on the large

leather chair that he had the sense of life close beside him, and it was another thirty seconds after that before

He went out half an hour later and bought a revolver at a sporting goods store. Then he took a taxi to the

room where he had been living on East Twentyseventh Street, and, leaning across the table that held his

Probably every boy who has attended an Eastern college in the last ten years has met Myra half a dozen

times, for the Myras live on the Eastern colleges, as kittens live on warm milk. When Myra is young,

seventeen or so, they call her a "wonderful kid"; in her primesay, at nineteenshe is tendered the subtle

compliment of being referred to by her name alone; and after that she is a "prom trotter" or "the famous

You can see her practically any winter afternoon if you stroll through the Biltmore lobby. She will be

standing in a group of sophomores just in from Princeton or New Haven, trying to decide whether to dance

away the mellow hours at the Club de Vingt or the Plaza Red Room. Afterward one of the sophomores will

take her to the theater and ask her down to the February promand then dive for a taxi to catch the last train

Invariably she has a somnolent mother sharing a suite with her on one of the floors above.

When Myra is about twentyfour she thinks over all the nice boys she might have married at one time or

other, sighs a little and does the best she can. But no remarks, please! She has given her youth to you; she has

blown fragrantly through many ballrooms to the tender tribute of many eyes; she has roused strange surges of

The particular Myra whom this story concerns will have to have a paragraph of history. I will get it over with

When she was sixteen she lived in a big house in Cleveland and attended Derby School in Connecticut, and it

was while she was still there that she started going to prepschool dances and college proms. She decided to

spend the war at Smith College, but in January of her freshman year, falling violently in love with a young

infantry officer, she failed all her midyear examinations and retired to Cleveland in disgrace. The young

Just as she had about decided that she didn't love him after all he was ordered abroad, and in a great revival of

sentiment she rushed down to the port of embarkation with her mother to bid him goodby. She wrote him

daily for two months, and then weekly for two months, and then once more. This last letter he never got, for a

machinegun bullet ripped through his head one rainy July morning. Perhaps this was just as well, for the

letter informed him that it had all been a mistake, and that something told her they would never be happy

The "something" wore boots and silver wings and was tall and dark. Myra was quite sure that it was the real

thing at last, but as an engine went through his chest at Kelly Field in midAugust she never had a chance to

Instead she came East again, a little slimmer, with a becoming pallor and new shadows under her eyes, and

throughout armistice year she left the ends of cigarettes all over New York on little china trays marked

"Midnight Frolic" and "Coconut Grove" and "Palais Royal." She was twentyone now, and Cleveland people

You will have to do your best with that. The story should have started long ago.

It was an afternoon in September when she broke a theater date in order to have tea with young Mrs. Arthur

"I wish, " began Myra as they sat down exquisitely, "that I'd been a senorita or a mademoiselle or something.

Good grief! What is there to do over here once you're out, except marry and retire!"

"I can't seem to get interested, Lilah," said Myra, bending forward earnestly. "I've played round so much that

even while I'm kissing the man I just wonder how soon I'll get tired of him. I never get carried away like I

"Well," said Lilah complacently, "take it from me, don't get married unless you're absolutely through playing

"Through! I'm sick and tired of my whole pointless existence. Funny, Lilah, but I do feel ancient. Up at New

Haven last spring men danced with me that seemed like little boysand once I overheard a girl say in the

dressing room, 'There's Myra Harper! She's been coming up here for eight years.' Of course she was about

"Heavens!" sighed Myra. "And now some men are afraid of me. Isn't that odd? Some of the nicest boys. One

man dropped me like a hotcake after coming down from Morristown for three straight weekends. Some kind

friend told him I was husband hunting this year, and he was afraid of getting in too deep."

"I suppose soafter a fashion." Myra paused and looked about her rather cautiously. "Have you ever met

Knowleton Whitney? You know what a wiz he is on looks, and his father's worth a fortune, they say. Well, I

noticed that the first time he met me he started when he heard my name and fought shyand, Lilah darling,

"You certainly are not!" laughed Lilah. "And here's my advice: Pick out the best thing in sightthe man who

has all the mental, physical, social and financial qualities you want, and then go after him hammer and

tongsthe way we used to. After you've got him don't say to yourself 'Well, he can't sing like Billy,' or 'I

wish.he played better golf.' You can't have everything. Shut your eyes and turn off your sense of humor, and

"Drifting into romance is easy when you're eighteen," continued Lilah emphatically; "but after five years of it

"I've had such nice times," sighed Myra, "and such sweet men. To tell you the truth I have decided to go after

"Knowleton Whitney. Believe me, I may be a bit blase, but I can still get any man I want."

"Yesas much as I'll ever want anyone. He's smart as a whip, and shyrather sweetly shyand they say

Myra skipped a little pool of water and, reaching her taxi, balanced on the running board like a ballet dancer.

And knowing Myra as she did, Lilah felt that her last remark was distinctly superfluous.

That was essentially the reason that one Friday night six weeks later Knowleton Whitney paid a taxi bill of

seven dollars and ten cents and with a mixture of emotions paused beside Myra on the Biltmore steps.

The outer surface of his mind was deliriously happy, but just below that was a slowly hardening fright at

what he had done. He, protected since his freshman year at Harvard from the snares of fascinating fortune

hunters, dragged away from several sweet young things by the acquiescent nape of his neck, had taken

advantage of his family's absence in the West to become so enmeshed in the toils that it was hard to say

The afternoon had been like a dream: November twilight along Fifth Avenue after the matinee, and he and

Myra looking out at the swarming crowds from the romantic privacy of a hansom cab quaint devicethen

tea at the Ritz and her white hand gleaming on the arm of a chair beside him; and suddenly quick broken

words. After that had come the trip to the jeweler's and a mad dinner in some little Italian restaurant where he

had written "Do you?" on the back of the bill of fare and pushed it over for her to add the evermiraculous

He said it. Ah, Myra, how many ghosts must have flitted across your memory then!

"For good. I've got this, you see." And she raised the diamond solitaire to her lips. She knew how to do

Like a gossamer fairy in shimmering rose she ran up the wide stairs and her cheeks were glowing wildly as

At the end of a fortnight she got a telegraph from him saying that his family had returned from the West and

expected her up in Westchester County for a week's visit. Myra wired her train time, bought three new

It was a cool November evening when she arrived, and stepping from the train in the late twilight she

shivered slightly and looked eagerly round for Knowleton. The station platform swarmed for a moment with

men returning from the city; there was a shoutingmedley of wives and chauffeurs, and a great snorting of

automobiles as they backed and turned and slid away. Then before she realized it the platform was quite

deserted and not a single one of the luxurious cars remained. Knowleton must have expected her on another

With an almost inaudible "Damn!" she started toward the Elizabethan station to telephone, when suddenly

she was accosted by a very dirty, dilapidated man who touched his ancient cap to her and addressed her in a

"Yes," she confessed, rather startled. Was this unmentionable person by any wild chance the chauffeur?

"Yes; he only keeps just one since the war. Great on economizin'regelar Hoover." He stamped his feet

nervously and smacked enormous gauntlets together. "Well, no use waitin' here gabbin' in the cold. Le's have

Too amazed for words and not a little dismayed, Myra followed her guide to the edge of the platform, where

she looked in vain for a car. But she was not left to wonder long, for the person led her steps to a battered old

"Surest thing you know," he cackled, opening the back door. "I thought the trunk bumpin' round back there

"Wouldn't allow it. Not since the war. Up to rich people to set 'n example; that's what Mr. Whitney says. Le's

As he disappeared Myra tried in vain to conjure up a picture of the chauffeur if this was his son. After a

mysterious argument with the station agent he returned, gasping violently, with the trunk on his back. He

It was quite dark when they swerved out of the road and up a long dusky driveway to the Whitney place,

whence lighted windows flung great blots of cheerful, yellow light over the gravel and grass and trees. Even

now she could see that it was very beautiful, that its blurred outline was Georgian Colonial and that great

shadowy garden parks were flung out at both sides. The car plumped to a full stop before a square stone

doorway and the chauffeur's son climbed out after her and pushed open the outer door.

"Just go right in, " he cackled; and as she passed the threshold she heard him softly shut the door, closing out

Myra looked round her. She was in a large somber hall paneled in old English oak and lit by dim shaded

lights clinging like luminous yellow turtles at intervals along the wall. Ahead of her was a broad staircase and

on both sides there were several doors, but there was no sight or sound of life, and an intense stillness seemed

She must have waited there a full minute before she began to have that unmistakable sense of someone

A sallow little man, bald and clean shaven, trimly dressed in a frock coat and white spats, was standing a few

yards away regarding her quizzically. He must have been fifty at the least, but even before he moved she had

noticed a curious alertness about himsomething in his pose which promised that it had been

instantaneously assumed and would be instantaneously changed in a moment. His tiny hands and feet and the

odd twist to his eyebrows gave him a faintly elfish expression, and she had one of those vague transient

For a minute they stared at each other in silence and then she flushed slightly and discovered a desire to

"I suppose you're Mr. Whitney." She smiled faintly and advanced a step toward him. "I'm Myra Harper."

For an instant longer he remained silent and motionless, and it flashed across Myra that he might be deaf;

then suddenly he jerked into spirited life exactly like a mechanical toy started by the pressure of a button.

"Why, of coursewhy, naturally. I knowah!" he exclaimed excitedly in a highpitched elfin voice. Then

raising himself on his toes in a sort of attenuated ecstasy of enthusiasm and smiling a wizened smile, he

"Ah!" he went on. "You must be tired; a rickety, cindery, ghastly trip, I know. Tired and hungry and thirsty,

no doubt, no doubt!" He looked round him indignantly. "The servants are frightfully inefficient in this

Myra did not know what to say to this, so she made no answer. After an instant's abstraction Mr. Whitney

crossed over with his furious energy and pressed a button; then almost as if he were dancing he was by her

He rushed suddenly to the wall and with some effort lifted a great carved Louis Fourteenth chair and set it

"Sit downwon't you? Sit down! I'll go get you something. Sixty seconds at the outside."

She demurred faintly, but he kept on repeating "Sit down!" in such an aggrieved yet hopeful tone that Myra

She sat there for five minutes and a feeling of oppression fell over her. Of all the receptions she had ever

received this was decidedly the oddestfor though she had read somewhere that Ludlow Whitney was

considered one of the most eccentric figures in the financial world, to find a sallow, elfin little man who,

when he walked, danced was rather a blow to her sense of form. Had he gone to get Knowleton! She revolved

Then she started nervously at a quick cough at her elbow. It was Mr. Whitney again. In one hand he held a

glass of milk and in the other a blue kitchen bowl full of those hard cubical crackers used in soup.

"Hungry from your trip! " he exclaimed compassionately. "Poor girl, poor little girl, starving!" He brought

out this last word with such emphasis that some of the milk plopped gently over the side of the glass.

Myra took the refreshments submissively. She was not hungry, but it had taken him ten minutes to get them

so it seemed ungracious to refuse. She sipped gingerly at the milk and ate a cracker, wondering vaguely what

to say. Mr. Whitney, however, solved the problem for her by disappearing againthis time by way of the

wide stairsfour steps at a hopthe back of his bald head gleaming oddly for a moment in the half dark.

Minutes passed. Myra was torn between resentment and bewilderment that she should be sitting on a high

comfortless chair in the middle of this big hall munching crackers. By what code was a visiting fiancee ever

Her heart gave a jump of relief as she heard a familiar whistle on the stairs. It was Knowleton at last, and

"Lordy! He must have gone upstairs and forgotten all about it. Did he insist on your eating this stuff? Why

"You musn't mind father, dear. He's forgetful and a little unconventional in some ways, but you'll get used to

"Show Miss Harper to her room and have her bag carried up and her trunk if it isn't there already." He

turned to Myra. "Dear, I'm awfully sorry I didn't know you were here. How long have you been waiting?"

It had been twenty at the least, but she saw no advantage in stressing it. Nevertheless it had given her an

Half an hour later as she was hooking the last eye on her dinner dress there was a knock on the door.

"It's Knowleton, Myra; if you're about ready we'll go in and see mother for a minute before dinner."

She threw a final approving glance at her reflection in the mirror and turning out the light joined him in the

hall. He led her down a central passage which crossed to the other wing of the house, and stopping before a

closed door he pushed it open and ushered Myra into the weirdest room upon which her young eyes had ever

It was a large luxurious boudoir, paneled, like the lower hall, in dark English oak and bathed by several lamps

in a mellow orange glow that blurred its every outline into misty amber. In a great armchair piled high with

cushions and draped with a curiously figured cloth of silk reclined a very sturdy old lady with bright white

hair, heavy features, and an air about her of having been there for many years. She lay somnolently against

the cushions, her eyes half closed, her great bust rising and falling under her black negligee.

But it was something else that made the room remarkable, and Myra's eyes scarcely rested on the woman, so

engrossed was she in another feature of her surroundings. On the carpet, on the chairs and sofas, on the great

canopied bed and on the soft Angora rug in front of the fire sat and sprawled and slept a great array of white

poodle dogs. There must have been almost two dozen of them, with curly hair twisting in front of their

wistful eyes and wide yellow bows flaunting from their necks. As Myra and Knowleton entered a stir went

over the dogs; they raised oneandtwenty cold black noses in the air and from oneandtwenty little throats

went up a great clatter of staccato barks until the room was filled with such an uproar that Myra stepped back

But at the din the somnolent fat lady's eyes trembled open and in a low husky voice that was in itself oddly

like a bark she snapped out "Hush that racket!" and the clatter instantly ceased. The two or three poodles

round the fire turned their silky eyes on each other reproachfully, and lying down with little sighs faded out

on the white Angora rug; the tousled ball on the lady's lap dug his nose into the crook of an elbow and went

back to sleep, and except for the patches of white wool scattered about the room Myra would have thought it

Mrs. Whitney raised a large arm and passed her hand across her forehead wearily.

"Child!" she saidand Myra started, for again the voice was like a low sort of growl"you want to marry

Myra felt that this was putting the tonneau before the radiator, but she nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Whitney."

"Ahand you're from Cleveland?" This was in what was surely a series of articulate barks.

Myra was not certain whether this last ejaculation was conversation or merely a groan, so she did not answer.

"You'll excuse me if I don't appear downstairs," continued Mrs. Whitney; "but when we're in the East I

Myra nodded and a conventional health question was trembling on her lips when she caught Knowleton's

"Well," said Mrs. Whitney with an air of finality, "you seem like a very nice girl. Come in again."

" 'Night!" barked Mrs. Whitney drowsily, and her eyes sealed gradually up as her head receded back again

Knowleton held open the door and Myra feeling a bit blank left the room. As they walked down the corridor

she heard a burst of furious sound behind them; the noise of the closing door had again roused the poodle

When they went downstairs they found Mr. Whitney already seated at the dinner table.

"Utterly charming, completely delightful!" he exclaimed, beaming nervously. "One big family, and you the

"It's been lonely here," he continued; "desolate, with only us three. We expect you to bring sunlight and

warmth, the peculiar radiance and efflorescence of youth. It will be quite delightful. Do you sing?"

"I had Monroe call up a few peoplejust some of the neighbors," he explained to Myra. "We're all very

friendly hereabouts; give informal things continually. Oh, it's quite delightful."

Myra caught Knowleton's eye and gave him a sympathetic glance. It was obvious that he had wanted to be

"I want them to meet Myra," continued his father. "I want them to know this delightful jewel we've added to

"Father," said Knowleton suddenly, "eventually of course Myra and I will want to live here with you and

mother, but for the first two or three years I think an apartment in New York would be more the thing for us."

Crash! Mr. Whitney had raked across the tablecloth with his fingers and swept his silver to a jangling heap on

"Nonsense!" he cried furiously, pointing a tiny finger at his son. "Don't talk that utter nonsense! You'll live

In his excitement Mr. Whitney rose and a faint unnatural color crept into his sallow face.

"Silence!" he shrieked. "If you expect one bit of help from me you can have it under my roofnowhere else!

Is that clear? As for you my exquisite young lady," he continued, turning his wavering finger on Myra, "you'd

better understand that the best thing you can do is to decide to settle down right here. This is my home, and I

He stood then for a moment on his tiptoes, bending furiously indignant glances first on one, then on the other,

"Well," gasped Myra, turning to Knowleton in amazement "what do you know about that!"

Some hours later she crept into bed in a great state of restless discontent. One thing she knewshe was not

going to live in this house. Knowleton would have to make his father see reason to the extent of giving them

an apartment in the city. The sallow little man made her nervous, she was sure Mrs. Whitney's dogs would

haunt her dreams and there was a general casualness in the chauffeur, the butler, the maids and even the

guests she had met that night, that did not in the least coincide with her ideas on the conduct of a big estate.

She had lain there an hour perhaps when she was startled from a slow reverie by a sharp cry which seemed to

proceed from the adjoining room. She sat up in bed and listened, and in a minute it was repeated. It sounded

exactly like the plaint of a weary child stopped summarily by the placing of a hand over its mouth. In the dark

silence her bewilderment shaded gradually off into uneasiness. She waited for the cry to recur, but straining

her ears she heard only the intense crowded stillness of three o'clock. She wondered where Knowleton slept,

remembered that his bedroom was over in the other wing just beyond his mother's. She was alone over

With a little gasp she slid down into bed again and lay listening. Not since childhood had she been afraid of

the dark, but the unforeseen presence of someone next door startled her and sent her imagination racing

through a host of mystery stories that at one time or another had whiled away a long afternoon.

She heard the clock strike four and found she was very tired. A curtain drifted slowly down in front of her

Next morning, walking with Knowleton under starry frosted bushes in one of the bare gardens, she grew quite

lighthearted and wondered at her depression of the night before. Probably all families seemed odd when one

visited them for the first time in such an intimate capacity. Yet her determination that she and Knowleton

were going to live elsewhere than with the white dogs and the jumpy little man was not abated. And if the

nearby Westchester County society was typified by the chilly crowd she had met at the dance

"The family," said Knowleton, "must seem rather unusual. I've been brought up in an odd atmosphere, I

suppose, but mother is really quite normal outside of her penchant for poodles in great quantities, and father

"Because," she went on deliberately, "I'm almost sure I heard someone crying in there during the night. It

"There's no one in there," he said decidedly. "It was either your imagination or something you ate. Or

The day passed quickly. At lunch Mr. Whitney seemed to have forgotten his temper of the previous night; he

was as nervously enthusiastic as ever; and watching him Myra again had that impression that she had seen

him somewhere before. She and Knowleton paid another visit to Mrs. Whitneyand again the poodles

stirred uneasily and set up a barking, to be summarily silenced by the harsh throaty voice. The conversation

was short and of inquisitional flavor. It was terminated as before by the lady's drowsy eyelids and a p�an of

In the evening she found that Mr. Whitney had insisted on organizing an informal neighborhood vaudeville.

A stage had been erected in the ballroom and Myra sat beside Knowleton in the front row and watched

proceedings curiously. Two slim and haughty ladies sang, a man performed some ancient card tricks, a girl

gave impersonations, and then to Myra's astonishment Mr. Whitney appeared and did a rather effective

buckandwing dance. There was something inexpressibly weird in the motion of the wellknown financier

flitting solemnly back and forth across the stag on his tiny feet. Yet he danced well, with an effortless grace

"Mr. Whitney is passing the word along that he wants to see you behind the scenes."

Puzzled, Myra rose and ascended the side flight of stairs that led to the raised platform. Her host was waiting

He held out his hand, and wonderingly she took it. Before she realized his intention he had half led, half

drawn her out on to the stage. The spotlight's glare bathed them, and the ripple of conversation washing the

audience ceased. The faces before her were pallid splotches on the gloom and she felt her ears burning as she

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "most of you know Miss Myra Harper. You had the honor of meeting her

last night. She is a delicious girl, I assure you. I am in a position to know. She intends to become the wife of

He paused and nodded and began clapping his hands. The audience immediately took up the clapping and

Myra stood there in motionless horror, overcome by the most violent confusion of her life.

The piping voice went on: "Miss Harper is not only beautiful but talented. Last night she confided to me that

she sang. I asked whether she preferred the opera, the ballad or the popular song, and she confessed that her

And then Myra was standing alone on the stage, rigid with embarrassment. She fancied that on the faces in

front of her she saw critical expectation, boredom, ironic disapproval. Surely this was the height of bad

In the first hush she considered a word or two explaining that Mr. Whitney had been under a

misapprehensionthen anger came to her assistance. She tossed her head and those in front saw her lips

Advancing to the platform's edge she said succinctly to the orchestra leader: "Have you got 'Wave That

She hurriedly reviewed the words, which she had learned quite by accident at a dull house party the previous

summer. It was perhaps not the song she would have chosen for her first public appearance, but it would have

to do. She smiled radiantly, nodded at the orchestra leader and began the verse in a light clear alto.

As she sang a spirit of ironic humor slowly took possession of hera desire to give them all a run for their

money. And she did. She injected an East Side snarl into every word of slang; she ragged; she shimmied, she

did a tickletoe step she had learned once in an amateur musical comedy; and in a burst of inspiration

finished up in an Al Jolson position, on her knees with her arms stretched out to her audience in syncopated

For an instant there was silence, the silence of a cold tomb; then perhaps half a dozen hands joined in a faint,

Mr. Whitney, however, seemed delighted. He was waiting for her in the wings and seizing her hand shook it

"Quite wonderful!" he chuckled. "You are a delightful little actressand you'll be a valuable addition to our

In a shadowy corner she waited until the crowd had filed out with an angry unwillingness to face them

When the ballroom was quite empty she walked slowly up the stairs, and there she came upon Knowleton and

"Silence!" cried his father, his voice ascending testily. "You'll do your dutynow."

Knowleton cast one more appealing glance at him, but Mr. Whitney only shook his head excitedly and,

Knowleton stood silent a moment and finally with a look of dogged determination took her hand and led her

toward a room that opened off the hall at the back. The yellow light fell through the door after them and she

found herself in a dark wide chamber where she could just distinguish on the walls great square shapes which

she took to be frames. Knowleton pressed a button, and immediately forty portraits sprang into lifeold

gallants from colonial days, ladies with floppity Gainsborough hats, fat women with ruffs and placid clasped

She turned to Knowleton inquiringly, but he led her forward to a row of pictures on the side.

"Myra," he said slowly and painfully, "there's something I have to tell you. These"he indicated the pictures

There were seven of them, three men and three women, all of them of the period just before the Civil War.

"Ironic as it may seem," continued Knowleton steadily, "that frame contains a picture of my

Reaching out, he pulled a little silken cord and the curtains parted, to expose a portrait of a lady dressed as a

"My greatgrandfather, you see, was an Australian tea importer. He met his future wife in HongKong."

Myra's brain was whirling. She had a sudden vision of Mr. Whitney's yellowish face, peculiar eyebrows and

tiny hands and feetshe remembered ghastly tales she had heard of reversions to typeof Chinese

babiesand then with a final surge of horror she thought of that sudden hushed cry in the night. She gasped,

"Dearest, dearest!" he cried. "I shouldn't have told you! I shouldn't have told you!"

As he said this Myra knew definitely and unmistakably that she could never marry him, and when she

realized it she cast at him a wild pitiful look, and for the first time in her life fainted dead away.

When she next recovered full consciousness she was in bed. She imagined a maid had undressed her, for on

turning up the reading lamp she saw that her clothes had been neatly put away. For a minute she lay there,

listening idly while the hall clock struck two, and then her overwrought nerves jumped in terror as she heard

again that child's cry from the room next door. The morning seemed suddenly infinitely far away. There was

some shadowy secret near herher feverish imagination pictured a Chinese child brought up there in the half

In a quick panic she crept into a negligee and, throwing open the door, slipped down the corridor toward

Knowleton's room. It was very dark in the other wing, but when she pushed open his door she could see by

the faint hall light that his bed was empty and had not been slept in. Her terror increased. What could take

him out at this hour of the night? She started for Mrs. Whitney's room, but at the thought of the dogs and her

Then she suddenly heard the sound of Knowleton's voice issuing from a faint crack of light far down the

corridor, and with a glow of joy she fled toward it. When she was within a foot of the door she found she

could see through the crackand after one glance all thought of entering left her.

Before an open fire, his head bowed in an attitude of great dejection, stood Knowleton, and in the corner, feet

perched on the table, sat Mr. Whitney in his shirt sleeves, very quiet and calm, and pulling contentedly on a

huge black pipe. Seated on the table was a part of Mrs. Whitneythat is, Mrs. Whitney without any hair. Out

of the familiar great bust projected Mrs. Whitney's head, but she was bald; on her cheeks was the faint

stubble of a beard, and in her mouth was a large black cigar, which she was puffing with obvious enjoyment.

"A thousand," groaned Knowleton as if in answer to a question. "Say twentyfive hundred and you'll be

nearer the truth. I got a bill from the Graham Kennels today for those poodle dogs. They're soaking me two

"Well." said Mrs. Whitney in a low barytone voice, "send 'em back. We're through with 'em."

"That's a mere item," continued Knowleton glumly. "Including your salary, and Appleton's here, and that

fellow who did the chauffeur, and seventy supes for two nights, and an orchestrathat's nearly twelve

hundred, and then there's the rent on the costumes and that darn Chinese portrait and the bribes to the

servants. Lord! There'll probably be bills for one thing or another coming in for the next month."

"Well, then," said Appleton, "for pity's sake pull yourself together and carry it through to the end. Take my

"Brace up! It's all over. I thought for a minute there in the hall that you were going to balk at that Chinese

"It was the vaudeville that knocked the spots out of me," groaned Knowleton. "It was about the meanest trick

"Oh, Kelly, if you could have seen the girl look at me tonight just before she fainted in front of that picture.

Outside Myra flushed crimson. She leaned closer to the door, biting her lip until she could taste the faintly

"If there was anything I could do now," continued Knowleton "anything in the world that would smooth it

Kelly crossed ponderously over, his bald shiny head ludicrous above his feminine negligee, and put his hand

"See here, my boyyour trouble is just nerves. Look at it this way: You undertook somep'n to get yourself

out of an awful mess. It's a cinch the girl was after your moneynow you've beat her at her own game an'

saved yourself an unhappy marriage and your family a lot of suffering. Ain't that so, Appleton?"

"Well " said Knowleton with a dismal attempt to be righteous, "if she really loved me she wouldn't have let it

" 'At's right," he said; "she's shown she was after your money. Well, now then, there's no reason for not going

through with it. See here. On one side you've proved she didn't love you and you're rid of her and free as air.

She'll creep away and never say a word about it and your family never the wiser. On the other side

twentyfive hundred thrown to the bowwows, miserable marriage, girl sure to hate you as soon as she finds

out, and your family all broken up and probably disownin' you for marryin' her. One big mess, I'll tell the

"You're right," admitted Knowleton gloomily. "You're right, I supposebut oh, the look in that girl's face!

But Myra waited to hear no more. Pulling her silk kimono close about her she sped like lightning down the

Just before dawn Myra drowsed into a jumbled dream that seemed to act on through interminable hours. She

awoke about seven and lay listlessly with one blueveined arm hanging over the side of the bed. She who had

A clock outside her door struck the hour, and with her nervous start something seemed to collapse within

hershe turned over and began to weep furiously into her pillow, her tangled hair spreading like a dark aura

round her head. To her, Myra Harper, had been done this cheap vulgar trick by a man she had thought shy

Lacking the courage to come to her and tell her the truth he had gone into the highways and hired men to

Between her fevered broken sobs she tried in vain to comprehend the workings of a mind which could have

conceived this in all its subtlety. Her pride refused to let her think of it as a deliberate plan of Knowleton's. It

was probably an idea fostered by this little actor Appleton or by the fat Kelly with his horrible poodles. But it

But when she emerged from her room at eight o'clock and disdaining breakfast, walked into the garden she

was a very selfpossessed young beauty, with dry cool eyes only faintly shadowed. The ground was firm and

frosty with the promise of winter, and she found gray sky and dull air vaguely comforting and one with her

And then turning a corner suddenly she saw Knowleton seated on a stone bench, his head in his hands, in an

attitude of profound dejection. He wore his clothes of the night before andit was quite evident that he had

He did not hear her until she was quite close to him, and then as a dry twig snapped under her heel he looked

up wearily. She saw that the night had played havoc with himhis face was deathly pale and his eyes were

"Sit down," he began nervously. "Sit down; I want to talk to you.l I've got to talk to you."

Myra nodded and taking a seat beside him on the bench clasped her knees with her hands and half closed her

"Myra, I've done a ghastly thingto you, to me, to us. I haven't a word to say in favor of myselfI've been

"No; I meanLudlow Whitney is my father, but this man you've met isn't Ludlow Whitney." "I know," said

Myra coolly. "He's Warren Appleton, the actor." Knowleton leaped to his feet. "How on earth"

"Oh," lied Myra easily, "I recognized him the first night. I saw him five years ago in The Swiss Grapefruit."

At this Knowleton seemed to collapse utterly. He sank down limply on to the bench.

"Of course! How could I help it? It simply made me wonder what it was all about."

"Well, it starts with my mothermy real one, not the woman with those idiotic dogs; she's an invalid and I'm

her only child. Her one idea in life has always been for me to make a fitting match, and her idea of a fitting

match centers round social position in England. Her greatest disappointment was that I wasn't a girl so I could

marry a title, instead she wanted to drag me to Englandmarry me off to the sister of an earl or the daughter

of a duke. Why, before she'd let me stay up here alone this fall she made me promise I wouldn't go to see any

He paused for a second and continued earnestly: "You were the first girl in my life whom I ever thought of

marrying. You intoxicated me, Myra. It was just as though you were making me love you by some invisible

"Well, that first intoxication lasted a week, and then one day a letter came from mother saying she was

bringing home some wonderful English girl, Lady Helena SomethingorOther. And the same day a man

told me that he'd heard I'd been caught by the most famous husband hunter in New York. Well, between these

two things I went half crazy. I came into town to see you and call it offgot as far as the Biltmore entrance

and didn't dare. I started wandering down Fifth Avenue like a wild man, and then I met Kelly. I told him the

whole storyand within an hour we'd hatched up this ghastly plan. It was his planall the details. His

histrionic instinct got the better of him and he had me thinking it was the kindest way out."

"Well, it went splendidly, we thought. Everythingthe station meeting, the dinner scene, the scream in the

night, the vaudeville though I thought that was a little too muchuntiluntilOh, Myra, when you

fainted under that picture and I held you there in my arms, helpless as a baby, I knew I loved you. I was sorry

There was a long pause while she sat motionless, her hands still clasping her kneesthen he burst out with a

"Myra!" he cried. "If by any possible chance you can bring yourself to forgive and forget I'll marry you when

For a long while she considered, and Knowleton rose and began pacing nervously up and down the aisle of

bare bushes his hands in his pockets, his tired eyes pathetic now, and full of dull appeal. And then she came

With her words the atmosphere cleared and his troubles seemed to fall from him like a ragged cloak. An

Indian summer sun drifted out from behind the gray clouds and the dry bushes rustled gently in the breeze.

"It was a bad mistake," she continued, "but if you're sure you love me now, that's the main thing. We'll go to

town this morning get a license, and I'll call up my cousin, who's a minister in the First Presbyterian Church.

"Myra!" he cried jubilantly. "You're a marvel and I'm not fit to tie your shoe strings. I'm going to make up to

The next two hours passed in a whirl. Myra went to the telephone and called her cousin, and then rushed

upstairs to pack. When she came down a shining roadster was waiting miraculously in the drive and by ten

They stopped for a few minutes at the City Hall and again at the jeweler's, and then they were in the house of

the Reverend Walter Gregory on Sixtyninth Street, where a sanctimonious gentleman with twinkling eyes

and a slight stutter received them cordially and urged them to a breakfast of bacon and eggs before the

On the way to the station they stopped only long enough to wire Knowleton's father, and then they were

"Darn!" exclaimed Myra. "I forgot my bag. Left it at Cousin Walter's in the excitement."

Outside Myra ran swiftly along the platform and up the steel stairs to the great waiting room, where a man

"Fine! Oh, Walter, you were splendid! I almost wish you'd join the ministry so you could officiate when I do

"Wish we'd had more time. I'd have had him lease an apartment and buy furniture."

"Oh, he'll think I'm on the train till he gets to Elizabeth." She shook her little fist at the great contour of the

"Well, any time I can be of use tto youBy the way, what are you going to do with all the rings?"

"That's the question," she said. "I may send them to Lady Helena SomethingorOtherandwell, I've

always had a strong penchant for souvenirs. Tell the driver 'Biltmore,' Walter."

This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as bluesilk stockings, and beneath a

sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. From the western half of the sky the sun was shying little golden

disks at the seaif you gazed intently enough you could see them skip from wave tip to wave tip until they

joined a broad collar of golden coin that was collecting half a mile out and would eventually be a dazzling

sunset. About halfway between the Florida shore and the golden collar a white steamyacht, very young and

graceful, was riding at anchor and under a blueandwhite awning aft a yellowhaired girl reclined in a

She was about nineteen, slender and supple, with a spoiled alluring mouth and quick gray eyes full of a

radiant curiosity. Her feet, stockingless, and adorned rather than clad in bluesatin slippers which swung

nonchalantly from her toes, were perched on the arm of a settee adjoining the one she occupied. And as she

read she intermittently regaled herself by a faint application to her tongue of a halflemon that she held in her

hand. The other half, sucked dry, lay on the deck at her feet and rocked very gently to and fro at the almost

The second halflemon was wellnigh pulpless and the golden collar had grown astonishing in width, when

suddenly the drowsy silence which enveloped the yacht was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps and an

elderly man topped with orderly gray hair and clad in a whiteflannel suit appeared at the head of the

companionway. There he paused for a moment until his eyes became accustomed to the sun, and then seeing

If he had intended thereby to obtain a rise of any sort he was doomed to disappointment. The girl calmly

turned over two pages, turned back one, raised the lemon mechanically to tasting distance, and then very

Ardita raised the lemon languidly, allowing three words to slip out before it reached her tongue.

"Will you listen to meor will I have to get a servant to hold you while I talk to you?"

"Will you have the decency to close that abominable book and discard that damn lemon for two minutes?"

"Do you mean to say," she interrupted wonderingly, "'at they let you run a wire out here?"

"Well, it seemswell, I am up here" He paused and swallowed several times distractedly. "Oh, yes.

Young woman, Colonel Moreland has called up again to ask me to be sure to bring you in to dinner. His son

Toby has come all the way from New York to meet you and he's invited several other young people. For the

"No," said Ardita shortly, "I won't. I came along on this darn cruise with the one idea of going to Palm Beach,

and you knew it, and I absolutely refuse to meet any darn old colonel or any darn young Toby or any darn old

young people or to set foot in any other darn old town in this crazy state. So you either take me to Palm

"Very well. This is the last straw. In your infatuation for this mana man who is notorious for his excesses,

a man your father would not have allowed to so much as mention your nameyou have reflected the

demimonde rather than the circles in which you have presumably grown up. From now

"I know," interrupted Ardita ironically, "from now on you go your way and I go mine. I've heard that story

"Ooooh!" The cry was wrung from Ardita with the agony of a lost soul. "Will you stop boring me! Will

you go 'way! Will you jump overboard and drown! Do you want me to throw this book at you!"

Smack! The Revolt of the Angels sailed through the air, missed its target by the length of a short nose, and

The grayhaired man made an instinctive step backward and then two cautious steps forward. Ardita jumped

"You've made me that way! No child ever has a bad disposition unless it's her family's fault! Whatever I am,

Muttering something under his breath her uncle turned and, walking forward, called in a loud voice for the

launch. Then he returned to the awning, where Ardita had again seated herself and resumed her attention to

"I am going ashore," he said slowly. "I will be out again at nine o'clock tonight. When I return we will start

back to New York, where I shall turn you over to your aunt for the rest of your natural, or rather unnatural,

He paused and looked at her, and then all at once something in the utter childishness of her beauty seemed to

puncture his anger like an inflated tire, and render him helpless, uncertain, utterly fatuous.

"Ardita," he said not unkindly, "I'm no fool. I've been round. I know men. And, child, confirmed libertines

don't reform until they're tired and then they're not themselvesthey're husks of themselves." He looked

at her as if expecting agreement, but receiving no sight or sound of it he continued. "Perhaps the man loves

youthat's possible. He's loved many women and he'll love many more. Less than a month ago, one month,

Ardita, he was involved in a notorious affair with that redhaired woman, Mimi Merril; promised to give her

the diamond bracelet that the Czar of Russia gave his mother. You knowyou read the papers."

"Thrilling scandals by an anxious uncle," yawned Ardita. "Have it filmed. Wicked clubman making eyes at

virtuous flapper. Virtuous flapper conclusively vamped by his lurid past. Plans to meet him at Palm Beach.

"Maybe because he's the only man, good or bad, who has an imagination and the courage of his convictions.

Maybe it's to get away from the young fools that spend their vacuous hours pursuing me around the country.

But as for the famous Russian bracelet, you can set your mind at rest on that score. He's going to give it to me

"He hasn't see her for six months," she said angrily. "Don't you suppose I have enough pride to see to that?

Don't you know by this time that I can do any darn thing with any darn man I want to?"

She put her chin in the air like the statue of France Aroused, and then spoiled the pose somewhat by raising

"No, I'm merely trying to give you the sort of arguement that would appeal to your intelligence. And I wish

you'd go 'way," she said, her temper rising again. "You know I never change my mind. You've been boring

me for three days until I'm about to go crazy. I won't go ashore! Won't! Do you hear? Won't!"

"Very well," he said, "and you won't go to Palm Beach either. Of all the selfish, spoiled, uncontrolled,

Splush! The halflemon caught him in the neck. Simultaneously came a hail from over the side.

Too full of words and rage to speak, Mr. Farnam cast one utterly condemning glance at his niece and, turning,

Five o'clock rolled down from the sun and plumped soundlessly into the sea. The golden collar widened into

a glittering island; and a faint breeze that had been playing with the edges of the awning and swaying one of

the dangling blue slippers became suddenly freighted with song. It was a chorus of men in close harmony and

in perfect rhythm to an accompanying sound of oars cleaving the blue waters. Ardita lifted her head and

Ardita's brow wrinkled in astonishment. Sitting very still she listened eagerly as the chorus took up a second

With an exclamation she tossed her book to the desk, where it sprawled at a straddle, and hurried to the rail.

Fifty feet away a large rowboat was approaching containing seven men, six of them rowing and one standing

The leader's eyes suddenly rested on Ardita, who was leaning over the rail spellbound with curiosity. He

made a quick movement with his baton and the singing instantly ceased. She saw that he was the only white

"What's the idea of all the discord?" demanded Ardita cheerfully. "Is this the varsity crew from the county nut

By this time the boat was scraping the side of the yacht and a great hulking negro in the bow turned round

and grasped the ladder. Thereupon the leader left his position in the stern and before Ardita had realized his

"The women and children will be spared!" he said briskly. "All crying babies will be immediately drowned

Digging her hands excitedly down into the pockets of her dress Ardita stared at him, speechless with

He was a young man with a scornful mouth and the bright blue eyes of a healthy baby set in a dark sensitive

face. His hair was pitch black, damp and curlythe hair of a Grecian statue gone brunette. He was trimly

"Is this an outburst of wit?" demanded Ardita. "Are you an idiotor just being initiated to some fraternity?"

"I thought the country was dry," said Ardita disdainfully. "Have you been drinking fingernail enamel? You

"No," said his scornful mouth slowly; "no, I won't get off the yacht. You can get off if you wish."

Going to the rail he gave a curt command and immediately the crew of the rowboat scrambled up the ladder

and ranged themselves in line before him, a coalblack and burly darky at one end and a miniature mulatto of

four feet nine at the other. They seemed to be uniformly dressed in some sort of blue costume ornamented

with dust, mud, and tatters; over the shoulder of each was slung a small, heavylooking white sack, and

under their arms they carried large black cases apparently containing musical instruments.

"'Tenshun!" commanded the young man, snapping his own heels together crisply. "Right driss! Front! Step

"Take command, go down below, catch the crew and tie 'em upall except the engineer. Bring him up to

Babe saluted again and wheeling about motioned for to five others to gather about him. Then after a short

"Now," said the young man cheerfully to Ardita, who had witnessed this last scene in withering silence, "if

you will swear on your honor as a flapperwhich probably isn't worth muchthat you'll keep that spoiled

little mouth of yours tight shut for fortyeight hours, you can row yourself ashore in our rowboat."

With a little sigh as for a crisis well passed, the young man sank into the settee Ardita had lately vacated and

stretched his arms lazily. The corners of his mouth relaxed appreciatively as he looked round at the rich

striped awning, the polished brass, and the luxurious fittings of the deck. His eye fell on the book, and then

"Hm," he said, "Stonewall Jackson claimed that lemon juice cleared his head. Your head feel pretty clear?"

"Because inside of five minutes you'll have to make a clear decision whether it's go or stay."

"The Revolt of the Angels. Sounds pretty good. French, eh?" He stared at her with new interest. "You

"Well, Ardita, no use standing up there and chewing out the insides of your mouth. You ought to break those

Ardita took a carved jade case from her pocket, extracted a cigarette and lit it with a conscious coolness,

though she knew her hand was trembling a little; then she crossed over with her supple, swinging walk, and

"You can't get me off this yacht," she said steadily; "and you haven't got very much sense if you think you'll

get far with it. My uncle'll have wirelesses zigzagging all over this ocean by half past six."

She looked quickly at his face, caught anxiety stamped there plainly in the faintest depression of the mouth's

"It's all the same to me," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "'Tisn't my yacht. I don't mind going for a coupla

hours' cruise. I'll even lend you that book so you'll have something to read on the revenue boat that takes you

"If that's advice you needn't bother. This is part of a plan arranged before I ever knew this yacht existed. If it

hadn't been this one it'd have been the next one we passed anchored along the coast."

"We're generally known," he said, "all seven of us, as Curtis Carlyle and his Six Black Buddies, late of the

"We were until today. At present, due to those white bags you see there, we're fugitives from justice, and if

the reward offered for our capture hasn't by this time reached twenty thousand dollars I miss my guess."

Within ten minutes after Curtis Carlyle's interview with a very frightened engineer the yacht Narcissus was

under way, steaming south through a balmy tropical twilight. The little mulatto, Babe, who seemed to have

Carlyle's implicit confidence, took full command of the situation. Mr. Farnam's valet and the chef, the only

members of the crew on board except the engineer, having shown fight, were now reconsidering, strapped

securely to their bunks below. Trombone Mose, the biggest negro, was set busy with a can of paint

obliterating the name Narcissus from the bow, and substituting the name Hula Hula, and the others

Having given orders for a meal to be prepared and served on deck at seventhirty, Carlyle rejoined Ardita,

and, sinking back into his settee, half closed his eyes and fell into a state of profound abstraction.

Ardita scrutinized him carefullyand classed him immediately as a romantic figure. He gave the effect of

towering selfconfidence erected on a slight foundationjust under the surface of each of his decisions she

discerned a hesitancy that was in decided contrast to the arrogant curl of his lips.

Being a supreme egotist Ardita frequently thought about herself; never having had her egotism disputed she

did it entirely naturally and with no detraction from her unquestioned charm. Though she was nineteen she

gave the effect of a highspirited precocious child, and in the present glow of her youth and beauty all the

men and women she had known were but driftwood on the ripples of her temperament. She had met other

egotistsin fact she found that selfish people bored her rather less than unselfish peoplebut as yet there

But though she recognized an egotist in the settee next to her, she felt none of that usual shutting of doors in

her mind which meant clearing ship for action; on the contrary her instinct told her that this man was

somehow completely pregnable and quite defenseless. When Ardita defied conventionand of late it had

been her chief amusementit was from an intense desire to be herself, and she felt that this man, on the

She was much more interested in him than she was in her own situation, which affected her as the prospect of

a matin�e might affect a tenyearold child. She had implicit confidence in her ability to take care of herself

The night deepened. A pale new moon smiled mistyeyed upon the sea, and as the shore faded dimly out and

dark clouds were blown like leaves along the far horizon a great haze of moonshine suddenly bathed the

yacht and spread an avenue of glittering mail in her swift path. From time to time there was the bright flare of

a match as one of them lighted a cigarette, but except for the low undertone of the throbbing engines and the

even wash of the waves about the stern the yacht was quiet as a dream boat starbound through the heavens.

Round them flowed the smell of the night sea, bringing with it an infinite languor.

"Lucky girl," he sighed, "I've always wanted to be richand buy all this beauty."

"You wouldfor about a day. But you do seem to possess a lot of nerve for a flapper."

"As to nerve," she continued slowly, "it's my one redeeming feature. I'm not afraid of anything in heaven or

"To be afraid," said Ardita, "a person has either to be very great and strongor else a coward. I'm neither."

She paused for a moment, and eagerness crept into her tone. "But I want to talk about you. What on earth

A negro appeared, switched on a string of small lights under the awning, and began setting the wicker table

for supper. And while they ate cold sliced chicken, salad, artichokes, and strawberry jam from the plentiful

larder below, Carlyle began to talk, hesitatingly at first, but eagerly as he saw she was interested. Ardita

scarcely touched her food as she watched his dark young facehandsome, ironic, faintly ineffectual.

He began life as a poor kid in a Tennessee town, he said, so poor that his people were the only white family

in their street. He never remembered any white childrenbut there were inevitably a dozen pickaninnies

streaming in his trail, passionate admirers whom he kept in tow by the vividness of his imagination and the

amount of trouble he was always getting them in and out of. And it seemed that this association diverted a

There had been a colored woman named Belle Pope Calhoun who played the piano at parties given for white

childrennice white children that would have passed Curtis Carlyle with a sniff. But the ragged little "poh

white" used to sit beside her piano by the hour and try to get in an alto with one of those kazoos that boys

hum through. Before he was thirteen he was picking up a living teasing ragtime out of a battered violin in

little caf�s round Nashville. Eight years later the ragtime craze hit the country, and he took six darkies on the

Orpheum circuit. Five of them were boys he had grown up with; the other was the little mulatto, Babe Divine,

who was a wharf nigger round New York, and long before that a plantation hand in Bermuda, until he stuck

an eightinch stiletto in his master's back. Almost before Carlyle realized his good fortune he was on

Broadway, with offers of engagements on all sides, and more money than he had ever dreamed of.

It was about then that a change began in his whole attitude, a rather curious, embittering change. It was when

he realized that he was spending the golden years of his life gibbering round a stage with a lot of black men.

His act was good of its kindthree trombones, three saxaphones, and Carlyle's fluteand it was his own

peculiar sense of rhythm that made all the difference; but he began to grow strangely sensitive about it, began

They were making moneyeach contract he signed called for morebut when he went to managers and

told them that he wanted to separate from his sextet and go on as a regular pianist, they laughed at him and

told him he was crazyit would be an artistic suicide. He used to laugh afterward at the phrase "artistic

Half a dozen times they played at private dances at three thousand dollars a night, and it seemed as if these

crystallized all his distaste for his mode of livelihood. They took place in clubs and houses that he couldn't

have gone into in the daytime. After all, he was merely playing the r�le of the eternal monkey, a sort of

sublimated chorus man. He was sick of the very smell of the theatre, of powder and rouge and the chatter of

the greenroom, and the patronizing approval of the boxes. He couldn't put his heart into it any more. The idea

of a slow approach to the luxury of leisure drove him wild. He was, of course, progressing toward it, but, like

He wanted to have a lot of money and time, and opportunity to read and play, and the sort of men and women

round him that he could never havethe kind who, if they thought of him at all, would have considered him

rather contemptible; in short he wanted all those things which he was beginning to lump under the general

head of aristocracy, an aristocracy which it seemed almost any money could buy except money made as he

was making it. He was twentyfive then, without family or education or any promise that he would succeed

in a business career. He began speculating wildly, and within three weeks he had lost every cent he had saved.

Then the war came. He went to Plattsburg, and even there his profession followed him. A brigadiergeneral

called him up to headquarters and told him he could serve the country better as a band leader so he spent

the war entertaining celebrities behind the line with a headquarters band. It was not so badexcept that when

the infantry came limping back from the trenches he wanted to be one of them. The sweat and mud they wore

seemed only one of those ineffable symbols of aristocracy that were forever eluding him.

"It was the private dances that did it. After I came back from the war the old routine started. We had an offer

it. I'm enjoying it too much, and I'm afraid I'd lose a little of that enjoyment if I shared it with any one else. I

want to hang on to those few breathless, heoric moments when I stood out before them all and let them know

From up forward came suddenly the low sound of singing. The negroes had gathered together on the deck

and their voices rose together in a haunting melody that soared in poignant harmonics toward the moon. And

Carlyle sighed and was silent for a moment, looking up at the gathered host of stars blinking like arclights in

the warm sky. The negroes' song had died away to a plaintive humming and it seemed as if minute by minute

the brightness and the great silence were increasing until he could almost hear the midnight toilet of the

mermaids as they combed their silver dripping curls under the moon and gossiped to each other of the fine

"You see," said Carlyle softly, "this is the beauty I want. Beauty has got to be astonishing, astoundingit's

In the dense sunflooded noon of next day a spot in the sea before them resolved casually into a

greenandgray islet, apparently composed of a great granite cliff at its northern end which slanted south

through a mile of vivid coppice and grass to a sandy beach melting lazily into the surf. When Ardita, reading

in her favorite seat, came to the last page of The Revolt of the Angels, and slamming the book shut looked up

and saw it, she gave a little cry of delight, and called to Carlyle, who was standing moodily by the rail.

"You've got me." He raised his voice and called up to the acting skipper: "Oh, Babe, is this your island?"

"Yes," she agreed; "but it doesn't look big enough to be much of a hidingplace."

"You still putting your faith in those wirelesses your uncle was going to have zigzagging round?"

"No," said Ardita frankly. "I'm all for you. I'd really like to see you make a getaway."

"You're our Lady Luck. Guess we'll have to keep you with us as a mascotfor the present, anyway."

"You couldn't very well ask me to swim back," she said coolly. "If you do I'm going to start writing dime

novels founded on that interminable history of your life you gave me last night."

"Oh, you didn'tuntil just at the end with some story about how furious you were because you couldn't

"Excuse me," she said, melting into laughter, "but I'm not used to having men regale me with the story of

"Oh, they talk about me," she yawned. "They tell me I'm the spirit of youth and beauty."

"Why shouldn't he? All life is just a progression toward, and then a recession from, one phrase`I love you.'"

"Yesor rather I found it out. It doesn't mean anything especially. It's just clever."

"Oh," she interrupted impatiently, "don't start that lecture on aristocracy again! I distrust people who can be

intense at this hour in the morning. It's a mild form of insanitya sort of breakfastfood jag. Morning's the

Ten minutes later they had swung round in a wide circle as if to approach the island from the north.

"There's a trick somewhere," commented Ardita thoughtfully. "He can't mean just to anchor up against this

They were heading straight in now toward the solid rock, which must have been well over a hundred feet tall,

and not until they were within fifty yards of it did Ardita see their objective. Then she clapped her hands in

delight. There was a break in the cliff entirely hidden by a curious overlapping of rock, and through this break

the yacht entered and very slowly traversed a narrow channel of crystalclear water between high gray walls.

Then they were riding at anchor in a miniature world of green and gold, a gilded bay smooth as glass and set

round with tiny palms, the whole resembling the mirror lakes and twig trees that children set up in sand piles.

"Not so darned bad!" cried Carlyle excitedly. "I guess that little coon knows his way round this corner of the

"Come on," said Carlyle as they landed in the slushy sand, "we'll go exploring."

The fringe of palms was in turn ringed in by a round mile of flat, sandy country. They followed it south and

brushing through a farther rim of tropical vegetation came out on a pearlgray virgin beach where Ardita

kicked off her brown golf shoesshe seemed to have permanently abandoned stockingsand went wading.

Then they sauntered back to the yacht, where the indefatigable Babe had luncheon ready for them. He had

posted a lookout on the high cliff to the north to watch the sea on both sides, though he doubted if the

entrance to the cliff was generally knownhe had never even seen a map on which the island was marked.

In the late afternoon they sat with their backs against great boulders on the highest part of the cliff and

Carlyle sketched for her his vague plans. He was sure they were hot after him by this time. The total proceeds

of the coup he had pulled off, and concerning which he still refused to enlighten her, he estimated as just

under a million dollars. He counted on lying up here several weeks and then setting off southward, keeping

well outside the usual channels of travel, rounding the Horn and heading for Callao, in Peru. The details of

coaling and provisioning he was leaving entirely to Babe, who, it seemed, had sailed these seas in every

capacity from cabinboy aboard a coffee trader to virtual first mate on a Brazilian pirate craft, whose skipper

"If he'd been white he'd have been king of South America long ago," said Carlyle emphatically. "When it

comes to intelligence he makes Booker T. Washington look like a moron. He's got the guile of every race and

nationality whose blood is in his veins, and that's half a dozen or I'm a liar. He worships me because I'm the

only man in the world who can play better ragtime than he can. We used to sit together on the wharfs down

on the New York waterfront, he with a bassoon and me with an oboe, and we'd blend minor keys in African

harmonics a thousand years old until the rats would crawl up the posts and sit round groaning and squeaking

"Take ship for India. I want to be a rajah. I mean it. My idea is to go up into Afghanistan somewhere, buy up

a palace and a reputation, and then after about five years appear in England with a foreign accent and a

mysterious past. But India first. Do you know, they say that all the gold in the world drifts very gradually

back to India. Something fascinating about that to me. And I want leisure to readan immense amount."

"Then," he answered defiantly, "comes aristocracy. Laugh if you want tobut at least you'll have to admit

"On the contrary," contradicted Ardita, reaching in her pocket for her cigarette case, "when I met you I was in

the midst of a great uproar of all my friends and relatives because I did know what I wanted."

"After a fashion. If you hadn't come aboard I had every intention of slipping ashore yesterday eveninghow

long ago it seemsand meeting him in Palm Beach. He's waiting there for me with a bracelet that once

belonged to Catharine of Russia. Now don't mutter anything about aristocracy," she put in quickly. "I liked

him simply because he had had an imagination and the utter courage of his convictions."

"What there is of itonly a silly uncle and a sillier aunt. It seems he got into some scandal with a redhaired

woman named Mimi somethingit was frightfully exaggerated, he said, and men don't lie to meand

anyway I didn't care what he'd done; it was the future that counted. And I'd see to that. When a man's in love

with me he doesn't care for other amusements. I told him to drop her like a hot cake, and he did."

"I feel rather jealous," said Carlyle, frowningand then he laughed. "I guess I'll just keep you along with us

until we get to Callao. Then I'll lend you enough money to get back to the States. By that time you'll have had

"Don't talk to me like that!" fired up Ardita. "I won't tolerate the parental attitude from anybody! Do you

He chuckled and then stopped, rather abashed, as her cold anger seemed to fold him about and chill him.

`Oh, don't apologize! I can't stand men who say `I'm sorry' in that manly, reserved tone. Just shut up!"

A pause ensued, a pause which Carlyle found rather awkward, but which Ardita seemed not to notice at all as

she sat contentedly enjoying her cigarette and gazing out at the shining sea. After a minute she crawled out on

the rock and lay with her face over the edge looking down. Carlyle, watching her, reflected how it seemed

"Oh, look!" she cried. "There's a lot of sort of ledges down there. Wide ones of all different heights."

"Not a chance. I like to dive. You can use my uncle's bathingsuit, only it'll fit you like a gunny sack, because

he's a very flabby man. I've got a onepiece affair that's shocked the natives all along the Atlantic coast from

"Yes, I'm pretty good. And I look cute too. A sculptor up at Rye last summer told me my calves were worth

There didn't seem to be any answer to this, so Carlyle was silent, permitting himself only a discreet interior

When the night crept down in shadowy blue and silver they threaded the shimmering channel in the rowboat

and, tying it to a jutting rock, began climbing the cliff together. The first shelf was ten feet up, wide, and

furnishing a natural diving platform. There they sat down in the bright moonlight and watched the faint

"Always happy near the sea. You know," she went on, "I've been thinking all day that you and I are

somewhat alike. We're both rebelsonly for different reasons. Two years ago, when I was just eighteen, and

"well, we were both conventional successes. I was an utterly devastating d�butante and you were a

"Well, at any rate, we both fitted. If our corners were not rubbed off they were at least pulled in. But deep in

us both was something that made us require more for happiness. I didn't know what I wanted. I went from

man to man, restless, impatient, month by month getting less acquiescent and more dissatisfied. I used to sit

sometimes chewing at the insides of my mouth and thinking I was going crazyI had a frightful sense of

She walked to the end of the ledge and shot out over the sea, doubling up in midair and then straightening

"You see, I used to read all day and most of the night. I began to resent society"

"Just floating round on my back. I'll be up in a minute. Let me tell you. The only thing I enjoyed was

shocking people; wearing something quite impossible and quite charming to a fancydress party, going round

with the fastest men in New York, and getting into some of the most hellish scrapes imaginable."

The sounds of splashing mingled with her words, and then he heard her hurried breathing as she began

Obediently he rose and dived. When he emerged, dripping, and made the climb he found that she was no

longer on the ledge, but after a frightened second he heard her light laughter from another shelf ten feet up.

There he joined her and they both sat quietly for a moment, their arms clasped round their knees, panting a

"The family were wild," she said suddenly. "They tried to marry me off. And then when I'd begun to feel that

after all life was scarcely worth living I found something"her eyes went skyward exultantly"I found

"Couragejust that; courage as a rule of life, and something to cling to always. I began to build up this

enormous faith in myself. I began to see that in all my idols in the past some manifestation

of courage had unconsciously been the thing that attracted me. I began separating courage from the other

things of life. All sorts of couragethe beaten, bloody prizefighter coming up for moreI used to make

men take me to prizefights; the d�class� woman sailing through a nest of cats and looking at them as if they

were mud under her feet; the liking what you like always; the utter disregard for other people's

opinionsjust to live as I liked always and to die in my own wayDid you bring up the cigarettes?"

"Still," Ardita continued, "the men kept gatheringold men and young men, my mental and physical

inferiors, most of them, but all intensely desiring to have meto own this rather magnificent proud tradition

She sprang to the edge, poised for a moment like a crucified figure against the sky; then describing a dark

"And courage to me meant ploughing through that dull gray mist that comes down on lifenot only

overriding people and circumstances but overriding the bleakness of living. A sort of insistence on the value

She was climbing up now, and at her last words her head, with the damp yellow hair slicked symmetrically

"All very well," objected Carlyle. "You can call it courage, but your courage is really built, after all, on a

pride of birth. You were bred to that defiant attitude. On my gray days even courage is one of the things that's

She was sitting near the edge, hugging her knees and gazing abstractedly at the white moon; he was farther

"I don't want to sound like Pollyanna," she began, "but you haven't grasped me yet. My courage is

faithfaith in the eternal resilience of methat joy'll come back, and hope and spontaneity. And I feel that

till it does I've got to keep my lips shut and my chin high, and my eyes widenot necessarily any silly

smiling. Oh, I've been through hell without a whine quite oftenand the female hell is deadlier than the

"But supposing," suggested Carlyle, "that before joy and hope and all that came back the curtain was drawn

Ardita rose, and going to the wall climbed with some difficulty to the next ledge, another ten or fifteen feet

Slowly she spread her arms and stood there swanlike, radiating a pride in her young perfection that lit a

"We're going through the black air with our arms wide," she called, "and our feet straight out behind like a

dolphin's tail, and we're going to think we'll never hit the silver down there till suddenly it'll be all warm

Then she was in the air, and Carlyle involuntarily held his breath. He had not realized that the dive was nearly

forty feet. It seemed an eternity before he heard the swift compact sound as she reached the sea.

And it was with his glad sigh of relief when her light watery laughter curled up the side of the cliff and into

Time, having no axe to grind, showered down upon them three days of afternoons. When the sun cleared the

porthole of Ardita's cabin an hour after dawn she rose cheerily, donned her bathingsuit, and went up on

deck. The negroes would leave their work when they saw her, and crowd, chuckling and chattering, to the rail

as she floated, an agile minnow, on and under the surface of the clear water. Again in the cool of the

afternoon she would swimand loll and smoke with Carlyle upon the cliff; or else they would lie on their

sides in the sands of the southern beach, talking little, but watching the day fade colorfully and tragically into

And with the long, sunny hours Ardita's idea of the episode as incidental, madcap, a sprig of romance in a

desert of reality, gradually left her. She dreaded the time when he would strike off southward; she dreaded all

the eventualities that presented themselves to her; thoughts were suddenly troublesome and decisions odious.

Had prayers found place in the pagan rituals of her soul she would have asked of life only to be unmolested

for a while, lazily acquiescent to the ready, na�f flow of Carlyle's ideas, his vivid boyish imagination, and the

vein of monomania that seemed to run crosswise through his temperament and colored his every action.

But this is not a story of two on an island, nor concerned primarily with love bred of isolation. It is merely the

presentation of two personalities, and its idyllic setting among the palms of the Gulf Stream is quite

incidental. Most of us are content to exist and breed and fight for the right to do both, and the dominant idea,

the foredoomed attempt to control one's destiny, is reserved for the fortunate or unfortunate few. To me the

interesting thing about Ardita is the courage that will tarnish with her beauty and youth.

"Take me with you," she said late one night as they sat lazily in the grass under the shadowy spreading palms.

The negroes had brought ashore their musical instruments, and the sound of weird ragtime was drifting softly

over on the warm breath of the night. "I'd love to reappear in ten years as a fabulously wealthy highcaste

"Is it a proposal of marriage? Extra! Ardita Farnam becomes pirate's bride. Society girl kidnapped by ragtime

"About myself! What on earth have I got to do with whatever stray felonies you've committed?"

"Thus swelling your January total to half a dozen," he suggested. "Suppose I call your bluff and ask you to

"What sort of life can you offer me? I don't mean that unkindly, but seriously; what would become of me if

"I wish you'd been poor. Just a little poor girl dreaming over a fence in a warm cow country."

"I'd have enjoyed astonishing youwatching your eyes open on things. If you only wanted things! Don't you

"Yesand want the big oblong watch that's platinum and has diamonds all round the edge. Only you'd

decide it was too expensive and choose one of white gold for a hundred dollars. Then I'd say: `Expensive? I

should say not!' And we'd go into the store and pretty soon the platinum one would be gleaming on your

"Doesn't it? Can't you see us travelling round and spending money right and left, and being worshipped by

bellboys and waiters? Oh, blessed are the simple rich, for they inherit the earth!"

"I love to be with you," she said, "more than with any man I've ever met. And I like your looks and your dark

old hair, and the way you go over the side of the rail when we come ashore. In fact, Curtis Carlyle, I like all

the things you do when you're perfectly natural. I think you've got nerve, and you know how I feel about that.

Sometimes when you're around I've been tempted to kiss you suddenly and tell you that you were just an

idealistic boy with a lot of caste nonsense in his head. Perhaps if I were just a little bit older and a little more

Over across the silver lake the figures of the negroes writhed and squirmed in the moonlight, like acrobats

who, having been too long inactive, must go through their tricks from sheer surplus energy. In single file they

marched, weaving in concentric circles, now with their heads thrown back, now bent over their instruments

like piping fauns. And from trombone and saxaphone ceaselessly whined a blended melody, sometimes

riotous and jubilant, sometimes haunting and plaintive as a deathdance from the Congo's heart.

"Let's dance!" cried Ardita. "I can't sit still with that perfect jazz going on."

Taking her hand he led her out into a broad stretch of hard sandy soil that the moon flooded with great

splendor. They floated out like drifting moths under the rich hazy light, and as the fantastic symphony wept

and exulted and wavered and despaired Ardita's last sense of reality dropped away, and she abandoned her

imagination to the dreamy summer scents of tropical flowers and the infinite starry spaces overhead, feeling

that if she opened her eyes it would be to find herself dancing with a ghost in a land created by her own fancy.

"We're enchanted. The shades of unnumbered generations of cannibals are watching us from high up on the

"And I'll bet the cannibal women are saying that we dance too close, and that it was immodest of me to come

They both laughed softlyand then their laughter died as over across the lake they heard the trombones stop

After a moment's silence they made out the dark figure of a man rounding the silver lake at a run. As he came

closer they saw it was Babe in a state of unusual excitement. He drew up before them and gasped out his

"Ship stan'in' off sho' 'bout half a mile, suh. Mose, he uz on watch, he say look's if she's done

Dismay was in his voice, and Ardita's heart gave a sudden wrench as she saw his whole face suddenly droop.

They ascended the hill in silence, Ardita's hand still resting in Carlyle's as it had when they finished dancing.

She felt it clinch nervously from time to time as though he were unaware of the contact, but though he hurt

her she made no attempt to remove it. It seemed an hour's climb before they reached the top and crept

cautiously across the silhouetted plateau to the edge of the cliff. After one short look Carlyle involuntarily

gave a little cry. It was a revenue boat with sixinch guns mounted fore and aft.

"They know!" he said with a short intake of breath. "They know! They picked up the trail somewhere."

"Are you sure they know about the channel? They may be only standing by to take a look at the island in the

"They could with fieldglasses," he said hopelessly. He looked at his wristwatch. "It's nearly two now. They

won't do anything until dawn, that's certain. Of course there's always the faint possibility that they're waiting

The hours passed and they lay there side by side, very silently, their chins in their hands like dreaming

children. In back of them squatted the negroes, patient, resigned, acquiescent, announcing now and then with

sonorous snores that not even the presence of danger could subdue their unconquerable African craving for

Just before five o'clock Babe approached Carlyle. There were half a dozen rifles aboard the Narcissus he said.

Had it been decided to offer no resistance? A pretty good fight might be made, he thought, if they worked out

"That isn't a Spic army out there, Babe. That's a revenue boat. It'd be like a bow and arrow trying to fight a

machinegun. If you want to bury those bags somewhere and take a chance on recovering them later, go on

and do it. But it won't workthey'd dig this island over from one end to the other. It's a lost battle all round,

Babe inclined his head silently and turned away, and Carlyle's voice was husky as he turned to Ardita.

"There's the best friend I ever had. He'd die for me, and be proud to, if I'd let him."

"I've no choice. Of course there's always one way outthe sure waybut that can wait. I wouldn't miss my

trial for anythingit'll be an interesting experiment in notoriety. `Miss Farnam testifies that the pirate's

When the color faded from the sky and lustreless blue changed to leaden gray a commotion was visible on the

ship's deck, and they made out a group of officers clad in white duck, gathered near the rail. They had

"We'll go back to the yacht," he said. "I prefer that to being hunted out up here like a 'possum."

Leaving the plateau they descended the hill, and reaching the lake were rowed out to the yacht by the silent

Half an hour later in the dim gray light the nose of the revenue boat appeared in the channel and stopped,

evidently fearing that the bay might be too shallow. From the peaceful look of the yacht, the man and the girl

in the settees, and the negroes lounging curiously against the rail, they evidently judged that there would be

no resistance, for two boats were lowered casually over the side, one containing an officer and six

bluejackets, and the other, four rowers and in the stern two grayhaired men in yachting flannels. Ardita and

Carlyle stood up, and half unconsciously started toward each other. Then he paused and putting his hand

suddenly into his pocket he pulled out a round, glittering object and held it out to her.

"I'm not positive, but I think from the Russian inscription inside that it's your promised bracelet."

Curtis Carlyle and his Six Black Buddies, in the middle of their performance in the tearoom of the hotel at

Palm Beach, suddenly changed their instruments for automatics and held up the crowd. I took this bracelet

And then dawn slanted dynamically across the deck and flung the shadows reeling into gray corners. The dew

rose and turned to golden mist, thin as a dream, enveloping them until they seemed gossamer relics of the late

night, infinitely transient and already fading. For a moment sea and sky were breathless, and dawn held a

pink hand over the young mouth of life then from out in the lake came the complaint of a rowboat and the

Suddenly against the golden furnace low in the east their two graceful figures melted into one, and he was

Her sigh was a benedictionan ecstatic surety that she was youth and beauty now as much as she would

ever know. For another instant life was radiant and time a phantom and their strength eternalthen there was

Up the ladder scrambled the two grayhaired men, the officer and two of the sailors with their hands on their

With a sigh her arms unwound from Carlyle's neck, and her eyes, transfigured and far away, fell upon the

boarding party. Her uncle saw her upper lip slowly swell into that arrogant pout he knew so well.

"So," he repeated savagely. "So this is your idea ofof romance. A runaway affair, with a highseas pirate."

"No," she said as if considering. "No, there's something else. There's that wellknown phrase with which I

And with that she turned, included the two old men, the officer, and the two sailors in a curt glance of

But had she waited an instant longer she would have heard a sound from her uncle quite unfamiliar in most of

their interviews. He gave vent to a wholehearted amused chuckle, in which the second old man joined.

The latter turned briskly to Carlyle, who had been regarding this scene with an air of cryptic amusement.

"Well, Toby," he said genially, "you incurable, harebrained, romantic chaser of rainbows, did you find that

"Whynaturally," he said. "I've been perfectly sure ever since I first heard tell of her wild career. That's why

"I'm glad you did," said Colonel Moreland gravely. "We've been keeping pretty close to you in case you

should have trouble with those six strange niggers. And we hoped we'd find you two in some such

"Your father and I sat up all night hoping for the bestor perhaps it's the worst. Lord knows you're welcome

to her, my boy. She's run me crazy. Did you give her the Russian bracelet my detective got from that Mimi

Ardita appeared at the head of the companionway and gave a quick involuntary glance at Carlyle's wrists. A

puzzled look passed across her face. Back aft the negroes had begun to sing, and the cool lake, fresh with

"Ardita," he repeated breathlessly, "I've got to tell you thethe truth. It was all a plant, Ardita. My name isn't

Carlyle. It's Moreland, Toby Moreland. The story was invented, Ardita, invented out of thin Florida air."

belief, and anger flowing in quick waves across her face. The three men held their breaths. Moreland, Senior,

took a step toward her; Mr. Farnam's mouth dropped a little open as he waited, panicstricken, for the

But it did not come. Ardita's face became suddenly radiant, and with a little laugh she went swiftly to young

"Will you swear," she said quietly, "that it was entirely a product of your own brain?"

"What an imagination!" she said softly and almost enviously. "I want you to lie to me just as sweetly as you

The negroes' voices floated drowsily back, mingled in an air that she had heard them sing before.

"Perhaps I can guess the other one," she said; and reaching up on her tiptoes she kissed him softly in the