And I was left alone with my thoughts. They weren't very good company.
To-morrow indeed, I thought. I sat and smoked till my tongue smarted.
I had troubles of my own, and wondered how they would end. Poor
Hillars! As I look back to-day, I marvel that we could not see the
end. The mystery of life seems simple to us who have lived most of it,
and can look down through the long years.




CHAPTER VI

During the first year of my residence in London there happened few
events worth chronicling. Shortly after my arrival Hillars
disappeared. His two months' vacation stretched into twelve, and I was
directed to remain in London. As I knew that Hillars did not wish to
be found I made no inquiries. He was somewhere on the Continent, but
where no one knew. At one time a letter dated at St. Petersburg
reached me, and at another time I was informed of his presence at Monte
Carlo. In neither letter was there any mention of her Serene Highness,
the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia. Since the night he recounted
the adventure the wayward Princess had never become the topic of
conversation. I grew hopeful enough to believe that he had forgotten
her. Occasionally I received a long letter from Phyllis. I always
promptly answered it. To any one but me her letters would have proved
interesting reading. It was not for what she wrote that I cared, it
was the mere fact that she wrote. A man cannot find much pleasure in
letters which begin with "Dear friend," and end with "Yours sincerely,"
when they come from the woman he loves.