Why, the old couple could never be made to believe that a girl in her sane senses would turn down cold such a proposition as they had made.  They would suspect that he had failed to put it to her in the proper light.  His “errand of mercy,” as Cap’n Ira had called it, had seemed so reasonable for both sides!

Tunis realized that he had not overurged the matter to the girl.  But there was a reason for that.  The difficulty would be in explaining to the Balls just how unsuitable Ida May was.  They would never believe that the daughter of Sarah Honey could be such a cheap and inconsequential person as she had actually proved to be.

“It’s going to hit ’em ’twixt wind and water, and hit ’em hard,” muttered the captain of the Seamew.  “One thing that girl said was right, I guess.  They’d better get somebody from the poor farm, rather than take her into their house.  Such a creature would be happier with the Balls, and make them happier.  But it’s pretty tough when those of your own blood go back on you.”

The experience had left a bad taste in Tunis Latham’s mouth.  He hoped heartily that he would never see Ida May Bostwick again.  He never intended to if he could help it.  To take his mind off the fiasco entirely, he hopped on to a car and rode out to the art museum and spent the afternoon in the quiet galleries where the masters, little and great, are hung.

He came downtown at nightfall, threading the paths of the public gardens and the common malls of Charles and Beacon Streets, with a feeling of immense calm in his soul.  Tunis Latham possessed keenly contrasting attributes of character.  On the one hand he was of a rather practical mind and thought; on the other, his love of beauty and appreciation of nature’s greater forces might have made of him an artist under more liberal conditions of birth and breeding.

Ida May Bostwick had rasped all the finer feelings of the captain of the Seamew.  He was happy to be able to get her out of his mind.  In fact, he had put aside thought of any girl.  Romance no longer enmeshed his cogitations.  He was utterly calm, unruffled, serene, as he descended by the twists and turns of certain streets beyond the State House and came out finally upon the now lighted and bustling square.

He halted, like a pointer dog, before the eating place where he had had breakfast.

Tunis Latham felt a certain shock.  That girl with the violet eyes had been farthest from his thought at the moment, and for some hours now.  He had lumped together the whole girl question and had relegated it to the back of his mind.

And perhaps he was cured.  He looked at it more sensibly after the first moment.  It was not thought of the girl that had brought him here.  Habit is strong in most of us.  The urge of a healthy appetite was more likely what had caused him to halt before the restaurant door.

It was after seven.  Following his walk from the Back Bay it was little wonder that he was hungry.  But should he enter this place?  There were several other restaurants in sight of about the same standard.  Tunis Latham did not make a practice of patronizing places similar to the Barquette when he ate alone.