for this, telling her truthfully he did not even hear her mentioned, the
everlasting irony that deals with all such human forefendings prevailed.

Lately, he had half confessed to her what a nervousness she had
produced. "You make me dread the day when I'll hear somebody speaking of
you. You're getting me so upset about it that if I ever hear anybody so
much as say the name 'Alice Adams,' I'll run!" The confession was but
half of one because he laughed; and she took it for an assurance of
loyalty in the form of burlesque.

She misunderstood: he laughed, but his nervousness was genuine.

After any stroke of events, whether a happy one or a catastrophe, we
see that the materials for it were a long time gathering, and the only
marvel is that the stroke was not prophesied. What bore the air of fatal
coincidence may remain fatal indeed, to this later view; but, with the
haphazard aspect dispelled, there is left for scrutiny the same ancient
hint from the Infinite to the effect that since events have never yet
failed to be law-abiding, perhaps it were well for us to deduce that
they will continue to be so until further notice.

. . . On the day that was to open the closed door in the background of
his pictures of Alice, Russell lunched with his relatives. There were
but the four people, Russell and Mildred and her mother and father, in
the great, cool dining-room. Arched French windows, shaded by awnings,
admitted a mellow light and looked out upon a green lawn ending in a
long conservatory, which revealed through its glass panes a carnival of
plants in luxuriant blossom. From his seat at the table, Russell
glanced out at this pretty display, and informed his cousins that he
was surprised. "You have such a glorious spread of flowers all over the
house," he said, "I didn't suppose you'd have any left out yonder. In
fact, I didn't know there were so many splendid flowers in the world."

Mrs. Palmer, large, calm, fair, like her daughter, responded with a mild
reproach: "That's because you haven't been cousinly enough to get used
to them, Arthur. You've almost taught us to forget what you look like."

In defense Russell waved a hand toward her husband. "You see, he's begun
to keep me so hard at work----"

But Mr. Palmer declined the responsibility. "Up to four or five in the
afternoon, perhaps," he said. "After that, the young gentleman is as
much a stranger to me as he is to my family. I've been wondering who she
could b