denly, settled in the seat next to mine. He said nothing at first, just sat there, a black bar between his eyes, seizing glass after glass which the muchachos, by that time well trained, ran up to him. Then he began to speak.
"He spoke about Her! Of course, at that time I did not know of her existence. I was bewildered; I thought he spoke of the other one, the one in the Walled City. Then as I understood, I was shocked as by a desecration.
"'It's four years ago, Courtland, that I told her good-by,' he said, soberly, leaning over and placing a hand upon my knee. 'She was in the garden, in the dew of the morning, and she was picking roses.'
"He was silent a long time. I was dumb, astounded; a sense of sacrilege filled my being. He began again:
"'Her eyes are green, Courtland, green like the sea. And she can read into my soul, Courtland, right into my soul!'
"Another period of silence, and then:
"‘"I am yours; whenever you need me I shall come to you." That is what she said.'
"He jerked forward over the table, his head in his hands. A horrible spiritual discomfort crept into me. I didn't want to hear about it; I didn't! I wanted to
