“Oh, a foreign correspondent!"’ she cried.

“Yes.”

“You will have a glorious time.  Papa will probably return to B——­ when the next administration comes in.  It is sure to be Republican.”  There are a few women who pose as Democrats; I never met one of them.  “You know papa was there twenty years ago.  I suppose you will be hob-nobbing with dukes and princes.”

“It cannot be avoided,” I said gravely.  “I do not expect to remain long in London.  When my work is done perhaps I shall travel and complete my foreign polish.”

“Oh, yes!” said Phyllis.  “I forgot to tell you, Ethel, that a fortune has been left to Jack, and he need not work but for the love of it.”

I laughed, but they thought it a self-conscious laugh.  Somehow I was not equal to the task of enlightening them.

“It is jolly to be rich,” said Ethel, clicking her skates together.  “It’s a bother at times, however, to know what to do with the money.  I buy so many things I do not need just because I feel compelled to spend my allowance.”

“It must be very inconvenient,” I observed.

“And now that you are a man of leisure,” said Phyllis, “you will write that book you have always been telling me about?”

“Do you wish it?” I asked.

“I do.  What I have always found lacking in you is application.  You start out to accomplish something, you find an obstacle in your path and you do not surmount it; you do not persevere.”

My pulse beat quickly.  Was there a double meaning to what she said?  I could not tell, for her eyes remained averted.

I sighed.  “It would be nice to become a successful author, but when a man is as rich as I am fame tarnishes.”  I took out an envelope from my pocket.

“What is that?” asked Phyllis.

I turned over the back and showed it to her.

“Figures!” she laughed.  “What do they mean?”

“It is what I am going to do with my fortune,” said I. I was holding out my vanity at arm’s length and laughing at it silently.

“Your air castles will be realized now,” said Phyllis.

“I shall build no more,” said I.  “The last one gave me a very bad fall.”

Phyllis looked away again.  A vague perfume from her hair wafted past my nostrils, and for a space I was overwhelmed with sadness.  Soon I discerned Mr. Holland speeding toward us.

“I shall not see you again,” I said, “so I’ll bid you good-bye now.  If you should chance to come abroad this summer, do not fail to look me up.”

“Good luck to you,” said Ethel, shaking my hand.  “You must bring home a Princess or a Duchess.”  Then she moved off a way, thoughtfully.

“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.