"Now," said David, "if you'll just put away a few of those ancient pipes

and puddle your papers a bit in your own cozy corner we can call these

quarters ready to receive the ladies, God bless 'em! Does it look kinder

bare to you? We might borrow a few drapes from the madam, or would you

trust to the flowers? I'll send them up for you to fix around tasty.

A blasted poet ought to know how to bunch spinach to look well."

As he spoke David Kildare stood in the middle of the living-room in his

bachelor quarters, which were in the Colonial, a tall pillared, wide

windowed, white brick apartment-house that stood across the street from

the home of Major Buchanan, and surveyed the long rooms upon which he and

his man Eph had been expending their energies for more than an hour.

Andrew Sevier sank down upon the arm of a chair and lighted a long and

villainous pipe. "Trust to the flowers," he answered. "I think Phoebe

doesn't care for the drapes of this life so much as some women do and as

this is for her birthday let's have the flowers, sturdy ones with stiff

stems and good head pieces."

"That's right, Phoebe's nobody's clinging vine," answered David moodily.

"She doesn't want any trellis either--wish something would wilt her! Look

here, Andrew, on the square, what's the matter that I can't get Phoebe?

You're a regular love pilot on paper, point me another course; this one

is no good; I've run into a sand bank." The dark red forelock on David's

brow was ruffled and his keen eyes were troubled, while his large sweet

mouth was set in a straight firm line. He looked very strong, forceful

and determined as he stopped in front of his friend and squared himself

as if for a blow.

Andrew Sevier looked at him thoughtfully for a few seconds straight

between the eyes, then his mouth widened into an affectionate smile as he

laid his hand on the sturdy shoulder and said: "Not a thing on God's green earth the matter with you, Davie; it's the

modernism of the situation that you seem unable to handle. May I use your

flower simile? Once they grew in gardens and were drooping and sweet and

overran trellises, to say nothing of clinging to oak trees, but we've

developed the American Beauty, old man! It stands stiff and glossy and

holds its head up on its own stem, the pride of the nation! We can get

them, though they come high. Ah, but they are sweet! Phoebe is one of the

most gorgeous to be found--it will be a price to pay, but you'll pay it,

David, you'll pay."

"God knows I'm paying it all day long every day and have been paying it

for ten years. Never at peace about her for an instant. Protection at

long distance is no joke. I can't sleep at night until she telephones me

she is at home from the office on her duty nights and then I have to beg

like a dog for the wire, just the word or two. She _will_ overwork and

undereat and--"




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