had never seen Margaret so radiant as at the dinner; her high spirits
infected the table, and the listening and the talking were of the
best that the company could give. I remembered it afterwards, not
from anything special that was said, but from its flow of high animal
spirits, and the electric responsive mood everyone was in; no topic
carried too far, and the chance seriousness setting off the sparkling
comments on affairs. Henderson's talk had the notable flavor of direct
contact with life, and very little of the speculative and reflective
tone of Morgan's, who was always generalizing and theorizing about it.
He had just come from the West, and his off-hand sketches of men had
a special cynicism, not in the least condemnatory, mere good-natured
acceptance, and in contrast to Morgan's moralizing and rather pitying
cynicism. It struck me that he did not believe in his fellows as much
as Morgan did; but I fancied that Margaret only saw in his attitude a
tolerant knowledge of the world.

"Are the people on the border as bad as they are represented?" she
asked.

"Certainly not much worse than they represent themselves," he replied;
"I suppose the difference is that men feel less restraint there."

"It is something more than that," added Morgan. "There is a sort of
drift-wood of adventure and devil-may-care-ism that civilization throws
in advance of itself; but that isn't so bad as the slag it manufactures
in the cities."

"I remember you said, Mr. Morgan, that men go West to get rid of their
past," said Margaret.

"As New Yorkers go to Europe to get rid of their future?" Henderson
inquired, catching the phrase.

"Yes"--Morgan turned to Margaret--"doubtless there is a satisfaction
sometimes in placing the width of a continent between a man and what
he has done. I've thought that one of the most popular verses in the
Psalter, on the border, must be the one that says--you will know if I
quote it right 'Look how wide also the East is from the West; so far
hath He set our sins from us.'"

"That is dreadful," exclaimed Margaret. "To think of you spending your
time in the service picking out passages to fit other people!"

"It sounds as if you had manufactured it," was Henderson's comment.

"No; that quiet Mr. Lyon pointed it out to me when we were talking about
Montana. He had been there."

"By-the-way, Mr. Henderson," my wife asked, "do you know what has become
of Mr. Lyon?"

"I believe he is about to go home."