through."

He was talking as calmly and coolly as if he had been gone but a few
days and had suffered only from a cut finger. We were fortunate in being
able to get through the formalities very soon, and, shortly after, we
drove away in a taxi.

"Well, Dave, how've you been and how's everybody?" he asked, after
lighting a cigarette from mine.

"Every one is all right," I answered impatiently. "Oh! Gordon, old man!
How did it ever happen?"

"Just a piece of shell while I was picking some fellows up," he
answered. "You have no idea of how surprising it is when you suddenly
realize that something's missing. But what's a hand more or less after
all that I've seen? How's Frieda?"

"Stouter than ever," I replied, "and her appetite's improving. Porter
recommended a diet, but she won't follow it. Says her fat doesn't
interfere with her sitting at the easel."

"Good old Frieda! I've heard about your book, Dave, it made a big stir,
didn't it? And so--so Madame Dupont has become a great singer again;
heard all about it from a fellow on board and, of course, your letters
spoke of it; but you're such a crazy old duffer I supposed you were
getting carried away with your enthusiasm. Never could take things
quietly, could you? Any other news?"

"Nothing very special," I told him. "The Van Rossums came to town early,
this year. I--I've seen Miss Sophia."

"Have you? Give me another cigarette. Yes, light a match for me. I'm
clumsy as the devil with that left hand!"

He sat back, puffing at the thing and looking out of the window.

"Peanuts," he said. "Haven't seen a peanut cart for over a year. Colored
women, too. Plenty of fighting niggers in France, but no darky ladies.
Look at the big cop! Policemen are the only leisure class in this
country, aren't they? Lord! What a big, ghastly brick monstrosity that
is! We can lick the world when it comes to fetid commercial
architecture, can't we? Are you going all the way up to the studio with
me?"

"Of course I am," I asserted indignantly. "What did you suppose I'd do?"

"Thought you might laugh at the uselessness of a studio in my present
condition," he replied negligently. "I've told you I'm clumsy as the
deuce with that left hand. Tried to draw a face with it the other day,
in pencil. Looked like a small boy's effort on a fence. So, of course,
I'm through with painting. I've been rather saving, you know. Invested
my money quite safely and haven't spent much on this jaunt. Of