On the morrow everything was arranged for my departure. I was to leave
Saturday morning.
It was a beautiful day, crisp and clear, with a bare ground which rang
to the heel. In the afternoon I wandered over to the Park and sat down
on a bench, and watched the skaters as they glided to and fro. I
caught myself wishing that I was a boy again, with an hour's romp on
the sheeny crust in view. Gradually the mantle of peace fell upon me,
and there was a sense of rest. I was going to forgive the world the
wrong it had done me; perhaps it would feel ashamed of itself and
reward me for my patience. So Hillars was "going to pieces." It is
strange how we men love another who has shared and spent with us our
late patrimonies. Hillars and I had been friends since our youth, and
we had lived together till a few years back. Then he went to
Washington, from there to Paris, thence to London. He was a better
newspaper man than I. I liked to dream too well, while he was always
for a little action. Liquor was getting the best of him. I wondered
why. It might be a woman. There is always one around somewhere when a
man's breath smells of whisky. A good deal of this woman's temperance
business is caused by remorse. I was drawing aimless pictures in the
frozen gravel, when I became aware that two skaters had stopped in
front of me. I glanced up and saw Phyllis and Ethel, their eyes like
stars and their cheeks like roses.
"I was wondering if it was you," said Ethel. "Phyllis, where is my
cavalier?"
"I believe he has forsaken us," said the voice of the woman I loved.
"Will you not accept part of the bench?" I asked, moving along.
The girls dropped easily beside me.
"I was just wishing I was a boy again and was in for a game of hockey,"
said I. "I am going to London on Saturday. Our foreign correspondent
has had to give up work on account of ill health."
"You haven't----" Phyllis stopped suddenly.
"Oh, no," said I intuitively. "I am growing rusty, and they think I
need a vacation." I was glad Ethel was there with her voluble chatter.
"Oh, a foreign correspondent!"' she cried.
"Yes."
"You will have a glorious time. Papa will probably return to B----
when the next administration comes in. It is sure to be Republican."
There are a few women who pose as Democrats; I never met one of them.
"You know papa was there twenty years ago. I suppose you will be
hob-nobbing with dukes and princes."