my dear, you would fall in love a dozen times a
day."

"Gordon McGrath says it's the only safe way," she retorted.

"Don't be quoting him to me," I advised her. "To him it is a mere
egotistic formula. Like yourself, he has always been afraid to descend
from generalities. I don't like the trait in him, whereas, in you, I
admire it, because, with you, it is the mere following of a tendency to
wholesale affection for your fellow-beings. Yet it is a slightly curious
and abnormal condition."

"Like having to wear spectacles," she helped me out.

"Just so, whereas in Gordon it is simply the result of a deliberate
policy, a line of conduct prepared in advance, like a chess-opening.
Some day, in that game of his, a little pawn may move in an unexpected
way, and he will be hoist with his own petard."

"I hope so," she answered cheerfully. "It will probably be very good for
him."

"But it might also break his heart," I suggested.

"Don't get gloomy," Frieda advised me. "What about yourself? Here you
are abusing your friends because they fight shy of the archer godling. I
should like to know what you have done to show any superiority."

"Well, if my memory serves me right, I have proposed to you, once or
twice."

"O dear no! You may have meant to, perhaps, but never really got to the
point," she answered, laughing. "I haven't the slightest doubt that once
or twice you came to my flat all prepared for the sacrifice. But,
suddenly, you doubtless became interested in some other trifling matter.
Give me three lumps of sugar in my coffee, and don't let them splash
down. This is my best gown."

We left Camus and returned together to Mrs. Milliken's. Frieda had a
curious notion to the effect that, as she hadn't seen the baby since
several hours, something very fatal might happen to it, if she failed
to run in again. My landlady and her ancient male relative were sitting
on the steps, fanning themselves and discussing the price of coal. By
this time, the woman ate right out of Frieda's hand, although the latter
does not seem to be aware that she has accomplished the apparently
impossible. The old night-watchman informed us that he was enjoying a
week's holiday from the bank. He was spending it, cheerfully, dividing
his leisure between the front steps and the backyard. He also told us of
a vague and ambitious project simmering in his mind. He was actually
planning to go all the way to Flatbush and see a niece of his. For
seve