roof?
Not one of his co-adventurers knew; they had advanced him funds on his
word. His other documents they had seen; these had sufficed them.
Still, back it came, with deadly insistence; some one was digging at
the bricks in the chimney. The drama was beginning to move. Had he
waited too long?

Mechanically, he proceeded to dress for dinner. Since he was to sit at
the family table, he must fit his dress and manners to the hour. He
did not resist the sardonic smile as he put on his fresh patent
leathers and his new dinner coat. He recalled Fitzgerald's
half-concealed glances of pity the last time they had dined together.

In the room across the corridor, Fitzgerald was busy with a similar
occupation. The only real worry he had was the doubt of his luggage
arriving before he left. He had neither tennis clothes nor
riding-habit, and these two pastimes were here among the regular events
of the day. The admiral both played and rode with his daughter. She
was altogether too charming. Had she been an ordinary society girl, he
would have stayed his welcome threadbare perhaps. But, he repeated,
she was not ordinary. She had evidently been brought up with few
illusions. These she possessed would always be hers.

The world, in a kindly but mistaken spirit, fosters all sorts of
beliefs in the head of a child. True, it makes childhood happy, but it
leaves its skin tender. The moment a girl covers her slippers with
skirts and winds her hair about the top of her curious young head,
things begin to jar. The men are not what she dreamed them to be,
there never was such a person as Prince Charming; and the women embrace
her--if she is pretty and graceful--with arms bristling with needles of
envy and malice; and the rosal tint that she saw in the approach is
nothing more or less than jaundice; and, one day disheartened and
bewildered, she learns that the world is only a jumble of futile,
ill-made things. The admiral had weeded out most of these illusions at
the start.

"So much for suppositions and analysis," panted Fitzgerald, reknotting
his silk tie. "As for me, I go to the Arctic; cold, but safe. I have
never fallen in love. I have enjoyed the society of many women, and to
some I've been silly enough to write, but I have never been maudlin.
I'm no fool. This is the place where it would be most likely to
happen. Let us beat an orderly retreat. What the devil ails my
fingers to-night? M'h! There; will you