. At
the corner a man, going out to dine, paused to fasten his overcoat under
the electric light, which blazed fitfully in the wind; and as I
approached and he looked up, I saw that it was George Bolingbroke.

"It's time all sober married men were at home dressing for dinner," he
observed in a whimsical tone.

The wind had brought a glow of colour into his face, and he looked very
handsome as he stood there, in his fur-lined coat, under the blaze of
light.

"I was kept late down town," I replied. "The General and I get all the
hard knocks while you take it easy."

"Well, I like an easy world, and I believe your world is pretty much
about what you make it. Where are you rushing? Do you go my way?"

"No, I'm turning off here. There's something I forgot this morning and I
came out to attend to it."

"Don't fall into the habit of forgetting. It's a bad one and it's sure
to grow on you--and whatever you forget," he added with a laugh as we
parted, "don't forget for a minute of your life that you've married
Sally."

He passed on, still laughing pleasantly, and quickening my steps, I went
to the corner of Broad Street, where I found a florist's shop still
lighted and filled with customers. There were no violets left, and while
I waited for a sheaf of pink roses, with my eyes on the elaborate
funeral designs covering the counter, I heard a voice speaking in a low
tone beyond a mass of flowering azalea beside which I stood.

"Yes, her mother married beneath her, also," it said; "that seems to be
the unfortunate habit of the Blands."

I turned quickly, my face hot with anger, and as I did so my eyes met
those of a dark, pale lady, through the thick rosy clusters of the
azalea. When she recognised me, she flushed slightly, and then moving
slowly around the big green tub that divided us, she held out her hand
with a startled and birdlike flutter of manner.

"I missed you at the reception last night, Mr. Starr," she said; "Sally
was there, and I had never seen her looking so handsome."

Then as the sheaf of roses was handed to me, she vanished behind the
azaleas again, while I turned quickly away and carried my fragrant
armful out into the night.

When I reached home, I was met on the staircase by Jessy, who ran,
laughing, before me to Sally, with the remark that I had come back
bringing an entire rose garden in my hands.

"There weren't any violets left, darling," I said, as I entered and
tossed the flowers on the