o man as a cobra, intelligent as man, hunting Its
victim by methods unknown to us?

Was I a cheated fool, or a pioneer on the borders of a new country?

Could I meet that Thing tonight, and tomorrow night? Could I bear the
agony of Its presence, the stench of death and corruption that was Its
atmosphere? At the mere memory my forehead grew wet.

The postman's buggy had stopped at our mailbox. Phillida ran down to
meet the event of the morning. Her laughing chatter came back to me
while she waited, fists thrust in middy pockets, for the old man to sort
our letters from his bags. It did not appear so hard to make a woman
happy, I mused. A man might attempt it with hope, if he could but
persuade her to try him.

My lady had promised to come again. Perhaps, with patience----?

Phillida came across the lawn with an armful of gaudy-covered catalogues
and a handful of letters.

"Catalogues for Ethan; letters for you," she called in advance of her
arrival. "What an important person you are, Cousin Roger! It always
gives me a quivery thrill to realize _who_ you are as well as how nice
you are. Now, isn't that a jumbled speech to tumble out of me?"

I took her tanned little hand along with the letters; letters that were
so many voices summoning me back to pleasant, busy Manhattan.

"It is a fine speech for a humble person to answer, Phil! But does that
sort of thing matter to you women? What do you love Vere for, at bottom?
Because he is strong and supple and has curly hair? No?" as she shook
her head. "Because he has worn the uniform, then; proved his courage in
war at sea? Because he had the glamour about him of real adventure and
cabaret glitter? Or because he took you away from a life you hated? Or,
perhaps, because he is kind and loves you? No! For none of these
reasons? Why, then, love Ethan Vere?"

She stopped vigorously shaking her head in repeated denial, and smiled
at me triumphantly.

"Because he _is_ Ethan Vere," she promptly responded. "Oh, Cousin Roger,
you clever people are so stupid! It would not make any difference at all
if Drawls were ugly, or never had been a sailor, or could not skate or
do things, or had not been able to make me happy. It is something very
much bigger than all that!"

"And all the divorce courts, Phil? The breach of promise suits, and the
couples who make each other miserable?"

"But they never had anything," she said. "Perhaps they will have it,
some day. Don't you know, Cousi