sitting-room was often crowded with
her friends--for she had begun to find out many of her artist
acquaintances. In fact, we were forever discovering people she had known
in Paris. It seemed to me that she had met the entire American Colony
during her four years in France.
My social and domestic interests quite cut me off from my club, and we
joked about this. "I am now one of the newly-weds," I admitted, "and my
absence from the club is expected. Members invariably desert the club
during the first year or two of their married life, but they all come
back!--Sooner or later, they drop in for lunch or while wifey is away,
and at last are indistinguishable from the bachelors."
Mrs. James A. Herne, who had meant so much to me in my Boston days, was
one of our very first callers, and no one among all my friends
established herself more quickly in my wife's regard. Katharine's
flame-like enthusiasm, her never-failing Irish humor, and her quick
intelligence, made her a joyous inspiration, and whilst she and Zulime
compared experiences like a couple of college girls, I sat and smiled
with a kind of proprietary pride in both of them.
Fortunately my wife approved of my associates. "You have a delightful
circle," she said one night as we were on our way home from a dinner
with a group of distinguished literary folk.
Her remark comforted me. Having no money with which to hire cabs or
purchase opera tickets, I could at least share with her the good
friendships I had won, confidently, believing that she would gain
approval,--which she did. Not all of my associates were as poor as I
(some of them, indeed, lived in houses of their own), but they were
mostly concerned with the arts in some form, and with such people Zulime
was entirely at ease.
With a lecture to deliver in Boston I asked her to go with me. "I cannot
forego the pleasure of showing you about 'the Hub,'" I urged. "I want
Hurd and other of my faithful friends of former days to know you. We'll
take rooms at the Parker House which used to fill me with silent awe. I
want to play the part, for a day or two, of the successful author."
As she had never seen Boston, she joyfully consented, and the most
important parts of my grandiose design were carried out. We took rooms
at the hotel in which I first met Riley, and from there we sent out
cards to several of my acquaintances. Hurd, who was still Literary
Editor of the _Transcript_, came at once to call, and so did Flo
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