uit
with facings and cords of blue silk a shade or so lighter than the suit. I
had always thought him handsome; he looked now like a god. He was smoking
a cigarette in an oriental holder nearly a foot long; but the air of
the room, so perfect was the ventilation, instead of being scented with
tobacco, had the odor of some fresh, clean, slightly saline perfume.

I think what was in my mind must have shown in my face, must have subtly
flattered him, for, when I looked at him, he was giving me a look of
genuine friendly kindliness. "This is--perfect, Langdon," said I. "And I
think I'm a judge."

"Glad you like it," said he, trying to dissemble his satisfaction in so
strongly impressing me.

"You must take me through your house sometime," I went on. "I'm going to
build soon. No--don't be afraid I'll imitate. I'm too vain for that. But I
want suggestions. I'm not ashamed to go to school to a master--to anybody,
for that matter."

"Why do you build?" said he. "A town house is a nuisance. If I could induce
my wife to take the children to the country to live, I'd dispose of this."

"That's it--the wife," said I.

"But you have no wife. At least--"

"No," I replied with a laugh. "Not yet. But I'm going to have."

I interpreted his expression then as amused cynicism. But I see a different
meaning in it now. And I can recall his tone, can find a strained note
which then escaped me in his usual mocking drawl.

"To marry?" said he. "I haven't heard of that."

"Nor no one else," said I.

"Except her," said he.

"Not even except her," said I. "But I've got my eye on her--and you know
what that means with me."

"Yes, I know," drawled he. Then he added, with a curious twinkle which I do
not now misunderstand: "We have somewhat the same weakness."

"I shouldn't call it a weakness," said I. "It's the quality that makes the
chief difference between us and the common run--the fellows that have no
purposes beyond getting comfortably through each day--"

"And getting real happiness," he interrupted, with just a tinge of
bitterness.

"We wouldn't think it happiness," was my answer.

"The worse for us," he replied. "We're under the tyranny of to-morrow--and
happiness is impossible."

"May I look at your bedroom?" I asked.

"Certainly," he assented.

I pushed open the door he indicated. At first glimpse I was disappointed.
The big room looked like a section of a hospital ward. It wasn't until
I had taken a second and ve