as convinced that
upon my subsequent speed depended my ever seeing her alive again. And
she did not struggle at all, because, as a matter of fact, it was
perfectly immaterial to her whether I kissed her or not. But that was
not the case with Roger's kiss.

CHAPTER III

AS THE TWIGS WERE BENT

The day that Roger and I first met is as clear in my mind as if, in
the current phrase, it were but yesterday. I was a slender little lad
of ten and he a great, strapping fifteen-year-old. I was trundling my
hoop about the part of the schoolyard usually given over to the little
fellows, as blue as indigo, homesick for my mammy-O, and secretly
ashamed of the French school-boy cape I had worn at Vevay, which all
my mates derided, but she in her woman's thrift had thought too good
to throw aside. No doubt she was right, but oh, what you make us
suffer, you gentle widow mothers! You would give us the hearts out of
your fervent bodies for footballs, you will nurse at our sick beds
without rest and deny yourself the comforts of existence, if need be,
to start us fairly in the world with a gentle training and schools of
the best, but you cannot comprehend that we would far rather go
without a meal in private than be the mock of our schoolmates in
public. I would have lived on bread and water for a week could I have
buried that French cloak at the end of it.

The very sport in which I was engaged was not in use among the other
boys of my age, but inconsistently enough, though I was eager to
conform as far as the cloak was concerned, wild horses could not have
dragged me from my wooden hoop, and I trundled it sulkily up and down
the flagged paths.

To me, an odd figure enough to young American eyes, advanced and spoke
Monsieur Duval, in whose regard I was the most homelike and natural
figure in the landscape, I have no doubt. It was with a real kindness
that he called out some cheery nothing, some "_Ah! Ah! ca va
bien--vous vous amusez, n'est-ce pas?_" or such like, and with an
equal and unconscious amiability that I replied in like manner. The
language was perfectly familiar to me, especially in its present
routine connection, and I took off my cap instinctively, as I should
have done at Vevay, and probably said something about my being
_joliment bien amuse_, which was purely perfunctory of course, because
I wasn't. He passed by and I trundled my hoop along, but only during
the space of time required for his complete exit fr