Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1925-05-15
CHAPTER Nv

| life. Men who knew Peter DeWolfe=
best say that if he left his travelling
bag on the sidewalk on Fifth avenue
while he did some shopping within
some store, it was only because he had
estimated carefully the psychology of
any thief and concluded that one could
depend upon human nature to believe
that luggage sitting alone on the pave
ment was placed there as trap. Peter
always found his bag where he had.
left it.
This is said because, unless some
complex reasoning and calculation of
the same kind can be applied to his
conduct, it is necessary to say he went
blind into love of woman.
"A few-a very few-men-and
fewer women Peter said once in a
letter, know just how near the top of
the world can be reached by the adj
venture of free days together where
there are no hours, and time springs
in magic jumps from noon to next day
| light perhaps, and the world is play
ground and city is your toy and man.
hluu Is Tie lIlCnu VI DOth VI
you. Unfortunately" he added, 1.-THE
men who have the quality of greatness
to see that such companionship over
a span of hours Is greater accom-
plishment than life in law office
or the presidency of some blooming
bank, are few Those who ever find
the girl are fewer And those who can
prove some essential quality of gen
tleman and whole man needed to
walk that delicious tightrope up above
the moon, without taking a vulgar step
into space with nasty crash on land
ing, are fewest of ALL"
He may have been demonstrating
these words. But apparently he had
abandoned his inquiry into the mystery
of past and future. He had abandoned
suspicion of her or curiosity about her
life, though ever and again he found
her glancing around with the unex-
planned fear in her dark eyes, as if she
expected to meet the eyes of recogni-
ton or find some fiend walking softly
along behind. Outwardly he had given
over all but one inquiry, and that was
the exploration of the heart and mind
and soul of Brena Selross.
Just when he had shelved his first
purpose, awakened by Benham's chal-
lenge, and when he wiped from his
mind the memory of his one moment
of dread of this girl, which, of course,
might be traceable to Muriel's ex-
traordinary and tragic warning, per
haps Peter himself could not have told.
1t might have been at the moment
when, after their first evening of
strolling aimlessly through the mys-
! terry of the symbolic fog with their
selves reaching toward one another,
| they had perched like two ravens on
| the pediment of Trafalgar monument,
supperless, content and watching the
blurred lights of one motor omnibus
after another move like luminous fish
In cloudy water
"What time is it?" Peter had asked
listening in vain for the great bell of
! st. Paul's.
Brenas Selcoss, sitting on her own
coat, drew back the loose sleeve of
her white silk waist from her rounded
cream-colored wrist and, after glance
at her watch, had said, 1T is after
two. / am hungry and am cold"
Peter had said quickly, Perhaps 1t
is my fault. But you wouldn't go to
the theater or the cafes. How could
deal with any one who stubbornly in
sists upon exploring alleys and arcades
and the banking district and Hyde
park until an old campaigner's legs
are almost worn out?"
"You couldn't"
81 shall find place now and l shall
like to see you eat" he had said,
jumping up. There are some persons,
after ALL who give us delight when
| they eat Did you ever see an old
French peasant woman who was really
fond of animals feeding them? Why,
her brown wrinkled face has smile
like a lighthouse And l can imagine
wearing that smile when ones own
| children are over their bowls of Cruel.
Yes, shall like to see you eat. l am
sure l would like 1t still better if
had planted and harvested or caught
everything which was put before you
But that cannot very well be, because
I'm not farmer or trapper or Izaak
! Walton-only a New York idler. Be
sides, Trafalgar square has no soil for
turnips, no brook trout no pheasants."
She had looked up with wistful
smile. "Who is pleased when you
eat?"
Nobody" he said. you see am
an orphan. There is an old waiter at
the club | forgot him. He rubs his
hands when am hungry, but for all |
know it is because the palms itch. He
waited on my father the banker