"You must write to me occasionally, Jack," said Phyllis, "if only once
a month. I shall always be interested in your career."
The smile faltered as she put out her gloved hand.
"You will make some man happy, Phyllis," I said.
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
And then--and then they sped away, and I followed them with dimming
gaze till I could see them no more. I trudged home. . . .
I stood on the upper deck. The spires and domes of the city faded on
my sight till all merged into a gray smoky patch on the horizon. With
a dead cigar clenched between my teeth I watched and watched with a
callous air, as though there had been no wrench, as though I had not
left behind all I loved in the world. And yet I gazed, the keen salt
air singing past my ears, till there was nothing but the sea as far as
the eye could scan.
Thus I began the quest of the elusive, which is a little of love, a
little of adventure, and a little of all things.