arms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his free
arm.

"Don't push me off," shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming," and he
clung with desperate energy to Peter.

Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and the
whole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to send
Podds flying across the street.

But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then the
earth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,
rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into that
chasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell,
leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath that
great dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last at
peace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The world
was none the better, but went on unchanged.

CHAPTER LVII

HAPPINESS

The evening on which Peter had left Grey-Court, Leonore had been moved
"for sundry reasons" to go to her piano and sing an English ballad
entitled "Happiness." She had sung it several times, and with gusto.

The next morning she read the political part of the papers. "I don't see
anything to have taken him back," she said "but I am really glad, for he
was getting hard to manage. I couldn't send him away, but now I hope
he'll stay there." Then Leonore fluttered all day, in the true Newport
style, with no apparent thought of her "friend."

But something at a dinner that evening interested her.

"I'm ashamed," said the hostess, "of my shortage of men. Marlow was
summoned back to New York last night, by business, quite unexpectedly,
and Mr. Dupont telegraphed me this afternoon that he was detained
there."

"It's curious," said Dorothy. "Mr. Rivington and my brother came on
Tuesday expecting to stay for a week, but they had special delivery
letters yesterday, and both started for New York. They would not tell me
what it was."

"Mr. Stirling received a special delivery, too," said Leonore, "and
started at once. And he wouldn't tell."

"How extraordinary!" said the hostess. "There must be something very
good at the roof-gardens."

"It has something to do with headwears," said Leonore, not hiding her
light under a bushel.

"Headwear?" said a man.

"Yes," said Leonore. "I only had a glimpse of the heading, but I saw
'Headwears N.G.S.N.Y.'"

A sudden silence fell, no one laughing at the mistake