ted in the morning, Monte used to
go out and walk his legs off till dinner-time--he enjoyed dropping into
a chair by the side of Peter. It was wonderful how already Peter had
picked up. He had gained not only in weight and color, but a marked
mental change was noticeable. He always came back from his ride in
high spirits. So completely did he ignore his blindness that Monte,
talking with him in the dark, found himself forgetting it--awakening to
the fact each time with a shock when it was necessary to offer an
assisting arm.

It was the man's enthusiasm Monte admired. He seemed to be always
alert--always keen. Yet, as near as he could find out, his life had
been anything but adventuresome or varied. After leaving the law
school he had settled down in a New York office and just plugged along.
He confessed that this was the first vacation he had taken since he
began practice.

"You can hardly call this a vacation!" exclaimed Monte.

"Man dear," answered Peter earnestly, "you don't know what these days
mean to me."

"You sure are entitled to all the fun you can get out of them,"
returned Monte. "But I hate to think how I'd feel under the same
circumstances."

"I don't believe there is much difference between men," answered Peter.
"I imagine that about certain things we all feel a good deal alike."

"I wonder," mused Monte. "I can't imagine myself, for instance, living
twelve months in the year in New York and being enthusiastic about it."

"What do you do when you're there?" inquired Peter.

"Not much of anything," admitted Monte.

"Then you're no more in New York when you're there than in Jericho,"
answered Peter. "You 've got to get into the game really to live in
New York. You 've got to work and be one of the million others before
you can get the feel of the city. Best of all, a man ought to marry
there. You're married, are n't you, Covington?"

"Eh?"

"Did n't Beatrice tell me you registered here with your wife?"

[Illustration: "Did n't Beatrice tell me you registered here with your
wife?"]

Monte moistened his lips.

"Yes--she was here for a day. She--she was called away."

"That's too bad. I hope we'll have an opportunity to meet her before
we leave."

"Thanks."

"She ought to help you understand New York."

"Perhaps she would. We've never been there together."

"Been married long?"

"No."

"So you have n't any children."

"Hardly."

"Then," said Peter, "you have you