see fit; there is nothing I care
about keeping which I did not bring.

"Again, Mary, I cannot ask you to forgive, or even to understand, but I
do hope that you will believe me when I say that this act of mine is
the most honest thing I have ever done, and that to have acted out the
tragi-comedy in the part of a happy contented husband would have made of
both of our lives a bitter useless farce. Sincerely, Philip."

He folded the pages and addressed the envelope.

"Pardon, Monsieur"--a whiff of sulphur came to his nose as the waiter
bent over the table to light the gas above him. "Would Monsieur like
to see the journal? There is a most amusing story about---- The bill,
Monsieur? Yes--in a moment."

Philip glanced nervously through the pages of the Temps. He was anxious
to get the letter to the post--to have done with indecision and worry.
It would be a blessed relief when the thing was finally done beyond
chance of recall; why couldn't that stupid waiter hurry?

On the last page of the newspaper was an item headlined "Recent News
from America." Below was a sub-heading "Horrible Massacre of Soldiers by
Indians--Brave Stand of American Troopers." He caught the name "Custer"
and read:

"And by his brave death at the hands of the Indians, this gallant
American general has made the name of Custer one which will forever be
associated with courage of the highest type."

He read it all through again and sat quietly as the hand of Polyphemus
closed over him. He even smiled a little--a weary, ironic smile.

"Monsieur desires something more, perhaps"--the waiter held out the
bill.

Philip smiled. "No--Monsieur has finished--there is nothing more."

Then he repeated slowly, "There is nothing more."

* * * * *

Philip watched his son George blow out the twelve candles on his
birthday cake.

"Mother," said George, "when I get to be eighteen, can I be a soldier
just like grandfather up there?" He pointed to the portrait of Philip's
father in uniform which hung in the dining room.

"Of course you can, dear," said his mother. "But you must be a brave
boy".

"Grandfather was awful brave, wasn't he father?" This from little Mary
between mouthfuls of cake.

"Yes, Mary," Philip answered. "He was very, very brave."

"Of course he was," said George. "He was an American."

"Yes," answered Philip, "That explains it.--he was an American."

Mrs. Custer looked up at the portrait of her distinguished
father-in-law.