nditioning it, lay a plexus of obscure mental and physical reactions
set up by the relations between husband and wife. It might very well be
there was a difference between the actual cerebral and nervous structure
of a married man and that of a single man.

At any rate, after these reflections, Peter now felt sure that marriage
would cure him of his mission; but how had Cissie known it? How had she
struck out so involved a theory, one might say, in the toss of a head?
The more Peter thought it over the more extraordinary it became. It was
another one of those explosive ideas which Cissie, apparently, had the
faculty of creating out of a pure mental vacuum.

All this philosophy aside, Cissie's appearance just in the nick of his
inspiration, her surprising proposal of marriage, and his refusal, had
accomplished one thing: it had committed Peter to the program he had
outlined to the girl.

Indeed, there seemed something fatalistic in such a concatenation of
events. Siner wondered whether or not he would have obeyed his vision
without this added impulse from Cissie. He did not know; but now, since
it had all come about just as it had, he suspected he would have been
neglectful. He felt as if a dangerous but splendid channel had been
opened before his eyes, and almost at the same instant a hand had
reached down and directed his life into it. This fancy moved the
mulatto. As he got himself ready for bed, he kept thinking:

"Well, my life is settled at last. There is nothing else for me to do.
Even if this should end terribly for me, as Cissie imagines, my life
won't be wasted."

Next morning Peter Siner was awakened by old Rose Hobbett thrusting her
head in at his door, staring around, and finally, seeing Peter in bed,
grumbling:

"Why is you still heah, black man?"

The secretary opened his eyes in astonishment.

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Nobody wuz 'speckin' you to be heah." The crone withdrew her head and
vanished.

Peter wondered at this unaccustomed interest of Rose, then hurried out
of bed, supposing himself late for breakfast.

A dense fog had come up from the river, and the moisture floating into
his open windows had dampened his whole room. Peter stepped briskly to
the screen and began splashing himself. It was only in the midst of his
ablutions that he remembered his inspiration and resolve of the previous
evening. As he squeezed the water over his powerfully molded body, he
recalled it almost imper