y gorging himself with the richest and most incongruously
varied food. _Comme boissons_, he had always before him two bottles, one
of _Chateau Yquem_ and one of _Fine Champagne_; and he alternated gulps
of thick yellow sweetness with drams of neat brandy. Neither seemed to
produce upon him any perceptible effect, though he emitted from time to
time moist porcine snufflings of fleshy satisfaction. Rather a
disgusting little man, we decided; and so dismissed him....

To the ordering of our own dinner I gave a finicky care which greatly
amused Susan, for whom food, I regret to say, has always remained an
indifferent matter; it is the one aesthetic flaw in her otherwise so
delicately organized being. In spite of every effort on my part to
educate her palate, five or six nibbles at almost anything edible
remains her idea of a banquet--provided the incidental talk prove
sufficiently companionable or stimulating.

That night, however, do what we would, our talk together was neither
precisely the one nor the other. We both, rather desperately, I think,
made a supreme effort to approximate the free affectionate chatter of
old days; but such things never come of premeditation, and there were
ghosts at the table with us. It would not work.

"Oh, what's the use, Ambo!" Susan finally exclaimed, with a weary sigh.
"We can't do it this way! Sister's here, and Jeanne-Marie--as close to
me as if I had seen her and known her always; and maybe--Phil. But
Jimmy's here most of all! There's no use pretending we're forgetting,
when we're not. You and I aren't built for forgetting, Ambo. We'll never
forget."

"No, dear; we'll never forget."

"Let's _remember_, then," said Susan; "remember all we can."

For a long hour thereafter we rather mused together than conversed.
Constraint slipped from us, as those we had best loved came back to us,
warm and near and living in our thoughts of them. No taint of false
sentiment, of sorrow willfully indulged, marred these memories. Trying
to be happy we had failed; now, strangely, we came near to joy.

"We haven't lost them!" exclaimed Susan. "Not any part of them; we never
can."

"They haven't lost us, then?"

"No"--she pondered it--"they haven't lost us."

"You mean it, Susan--literally? You believe they still live--_out
there_?"

"And you?"

"I don't know."

"Poor Ambo," murmured Susan; then, with a quick, dancing gleam: "But as
Jimmy'd say, dear, you can just take it from _me_!"

She