Was Phyllis right when she said that I did not truly love her? I
believed not. Should I go on loving her all my life? Undoubtedly I
should. As to affinities, I had met mine, but it had proved a
one-sided affair.

It was after ten by the clock when I remembered that I was to meet the
lawyer, the arbiter of my new fortunes. Money is a balm for most
things, and coupled with travel it might lead me to forget.

He was the family lawyer, and he had come all the way North to see that
I received my uncle's bequest. He was bent, gray and partially bald.
He must have been close to seventy, but for all that there was a
youthful twinkle in his eyes as he took my card and looked up into my
face.

"So you are John Winthrop?" he said in way of preliminary. You may
hand a card case full of your name to a lawyer, and still he will
insist upon a verbal admission.

"I have always been led to believe so," I answered smartly, placing my
hat beside the chair in which I sat down. "How did you manage to
locate me in this big city?"

"Your uncle had seen some of your signed articles in New York papers,
and said that in all probability I should find you here. A few
inquiries set me on your track." Here he pulled out a lengthy document
from his handbag. "I confess, however," he added, "that I am somewhat
disappointed in your looks."

"Disappointed in my looks!" was my cry. "What sort of a duffer were