which is not a usual fitting of a New York
business office, consciences not yet being tubbable. He had made his
mother show him how to make coffee, and he adopted the Continental
system of meals, having rolls and butter sent in, and making a French
breakfast in his own rooms. Then he lunched regularly not far from his
office, and dined wherever his afternoon walk, or evening plans carried
him. He found that he saved no money by the change, but he saved his
feelings, and was far freer to come and go as he chose.

He did not hear from the honeymoon party. Watts had promised to write to
him and send his address "as soon as we decide whether we pass the
winter in Italy or on the Nile." But no letter came. Peter called on the
Pierces, only to find them out, and as no notice was taken of his
pasteboard, he drew his own inference, and did not repeat the visit.

Such was the first year of Peter's New York life. He studied, he read,
he walked, and most of all, he waited. But no client came, and he seemed
no nearer one than the day he had first seen his own name on his office
door. "How much longer will I have to wait? How long will my patience
hold out?" These were the questions he asked himself, when for a moment
he allowed himself to lose courage. Then he would take to a bit of
wall-gazing, while dreaming of a pair of slate-colored eyes.

CHAPTER XI.

NEW FRIENDS.

Mr. Converse had evidently thought that the only way for Peter to get on
was to make friends. But in this first year Peter did not made a single
one that could be really called such. His second summer broadened his
acquaintance materially, though in a direction which promised him little
law practice.

When the warm weather again closed the courts and galleries, and brought
an end to the concerts and theatres, Peter found time harder to kill,
the more, because he had pretty well explored the city. Still he walked
much to help pass the time, and to get outside of his rooms into the
air. For the same reason he often carried his book, after the heat of
the day was over, to one of the parks, and did his reading there. Not
far from his office, eastwardly, where two streets met at an angle, was
a small open space too limited to be called a square, even if its shape
had not been a triangle. Here, under the shade of two very sickly trees,
surrounded by tall warehouses, were a couple of benches. Peter sat here
many evenings smoking his pipe. Though these few squ