nd there, he got the sailings of the first steamers home.
After that he strolled about the streets for a last impression of
Dusseldorf, but it was rather blurred by the constantly recurring pull of
his thoughts toward America, and he ended by turning abruptly at a
certain corner, and going to his hotel.

He found his wife dressed, but fallen again on her bed, beside which her
breakfast stood still untasted; her smile responded wanly to his
brightness. "I'm not well, my dear," she said. "I don't believe I could
get off to the Hague this afternoon."

"Could you to Liverpool?" he returned.

"To Liverpool?" she gasped. "What do you mean?"

"Merely that the Cupania is sailing on the twentieth, and I've
telegraphed to know if we can get a room. I'm afraid it won't be a good
one, but she's the first boat out, and--"

"No, indeed, we won't go to Liverpool, and we will never go home till
you've had your after-cure in Holland." She was very firm in this, but
she added, "We will stay another night, here, and go to the Hague
tomorrow. Sit down, and let us talk it over. Where were we?"

She lay down on the sofa, and he put a shawl over her. "We were just
starting for Liverpool."

"No, no we weren't! Don't say such things, dearest! I want you to help me
sum it all, up. You think it's been a success, don't you?"

"As a cure?"

"No, as a silver wedding journey?"

"Perfectly howling."

"I do think we've had a good time. I never expected to enjoy myself so
much again in the world. I didn't suppose I should ever take so much
interest in anything. It shows that when we choose to get out of our rut
we shall always find life as fresh and delightful as ever. There is
nothing to prevent our coming any year, now that Tom's shown himself so
capable, and having another silver wedding journey. I don't like to think
of it's being confined to Germany quite."

"Oh, I don't know. We can always talk of it as our German-Silver Wedding
Journey."

"That's true. But nobody would understand nowadays what you meant by
German-silver; it's perfectly gone out. How ugly it was! A sort of greasy
yellowish stuff, always getting worn through; I believe it was made worn
through. Aunt Mary had a castor of it, that I can remember when I was a
child; it went into the kitchen long before I grew up. Would a joke like
that console you for the loss of Italy?"

"It would go far to do it. And as a German-Silver Wedding Journey, it's
certainly been very comp