ard, Jimmy frequently wondered what ever became
of that wonderful day. He was assured that he had met the Candy Girl at
ten o'clock in the forenoon, and that he had bade her good-by in front
of the Martha Putnam Hotel at four fifteen, leaving himself not one
second to spare for reaching the railway station and by mathematical
computation that meant that he had been with her for six hours and
fifteen minutes; but as far as his sense of ecstasy was involved, that
day was certainly no longer than an hour in length. He recalled that she
took him to a private picture exhibit and that he was hopeful that her
signature on some of her work would give him knowledge of her name; but
that these were all signed with a funny little character rather than
with a name or initials; that he challenged her to show him the
published criticisms of her work, and that she again baffled him,
unwittingly, by declaring that she would mail them to him, and then
later decided that it was immodest to boast and would show them to him
only after she had repeated her success and felt her reputation
established.

Looking into the doorway of the Pullman he saw two other commercial
travelers whom in other days he would have joyously rushed forward to
greet, glad of good companionship. Time and again he had altered his
route that he might journey with them; but now he withdrew through the
corridor into the adjoining sleeper, hailed the Pullman conductor and
exchanged his berth for a stateroom in another car whither he retired,
shut and locked the door, and sat down like a man in a dream. He craved
privacy that he might be alone to review that wonderful day and dream.
Furthermore, the complexities of his situation had been augmented by her
last and hastily uttered caution just before he had parted with her:
"I'm going to take Dad into my confidence the first time he comes to New
York where I can talk with him--or possibly I may do so by letter. But
don't you say anything to him when you see him. You might upset things.
I wrote him that you took me to the Horse Show, and--well--he replied
rather oddly, it struck me! And--see here, I may as well tell you
something! Dad doesn't like you. You see, he doesn't know you as well as
I do. Mother's all right but--If I were you I'd steer clear of Dad
until--I'm going to have a talk with him! You know how obstinate he can
be, and--He once said that you lived in a universe that had no stars and
but one sun, and that th