ng
against the window was a giant apple tree, full blossomed.

Robert sighed and went near the window. He was ready to meet his
fate. A confessed vulgarian, he foresaw the verdict of justice in
the shape of that whiteclad form. He knew the rigid lines that a Van
Der Pool would draw. He was a peasant gambolling indecorously in the
valley, and the pure, cold, white, unthawed summit of the Matterhorn
could not but frown on him. He had been unmasked by his own actions.
All the polish, the poise, the form that the city had given him had
fallen from him like an ill-fitting mantle at the first breath of a
country breeze. Dully he awaited the approaching condemnation.

"Robert," said the calm, cool voice of his judge, "I thought I
married a gentleman."

Yes, it was coming. And yet, in the face of it, Robert Walmsley was
eagerly regarding a certain branch of the apple tree upon which
he used to climb out of that very window. He believed he could do
it now. He wondered how many blossoms there were on the tree--ten
millions? But here was some one speaking again:

"I thought I married a gentleman," the voice went on, "but--"

Why had she come and was standing so close by his side?

"But I find that I have married"--was this Alicia
talking?--"something better--a man--Bob, dear, kiss me, won't you?"

The city was far away.

XI

THE SHOCKS OF DOOM

There is an aristocracy of the public parks and even of the vagabonds
who use them for their private apartments. Vallance felt rather than
knew this, but when he stepped down out of his world into chaos his
feet brought him directly to Madison Square.

Raw and astringent as a schoolgirl--of the old order--young May
breathed austerely among the budding trees. Vallance buttoned his
coat, lighted his last cigarette and took his seat upon a bench.
For three minutes he mildly regretted the last hundred of his last
thousand that it had cost him when the bicycle cop put an end to
his last automobile ride. Then he felt in every pocket and found
not a single penny. He had given up his apartment that morning. His
furniture had gone toward certain debts. His clothes, save what were
upon him, had descended to his man-servant for back wages. As he sat
there was not in the whole city for him a bed or a broiled lobster
or a street-car fare or a carnation for buttonhole unless he should
obtain them by sponging on his friends or by false pretenses.
Therefore he had chosen the park.