classmate at college, and no one knew him better than I, except it was
himself. The love of adventure and drink had ended the life of the
one; it might end the life of the other.

The foreman in the composing room waited some time for that required
column and a half of editorial copy. I lit my pipe; and my thoughts
ran back to the old days, to the many times Dan had paid my debts and
to the many times I had paid his. Ah, me! those were days when love
and fame and riches were elusive and we went in quest of them. The
crust is hyssop when the heart is young. The garret is a palace when
hope flies unfettered. The most wonderful dreams imaginable are dreamt
close to the eaves. And when a man leaves behind him the garret, he
also leaves behind the fondest illusions. But who--who would stay in
the garret!

And as my thoughts ran on, the question rose, Whom would they send in
his place--Dan's? I knew London. It was familiar ground. Perhaps
they might send me. It was this thought which unsettled me. I was
perfectly satisfied with New York. Phyllis lived in New York. There
would be time enough for London when we were married. Then I began to
build air castles. A newspaper man is the architect of some splendid
structures, but he thoughtlessly builds on the sand when the tide is
out. Yes, foreign corresponding would be all well enough, I mused,
with Phyllis at my side. With her as my wife I should have the envy of
all my fellow craftsmen. We should dine at the embassies and the
attachés would flutter about us, and all London would talk of the
beautiful "Mrs. Winthrop." Then the fire in my pipe-bowl went out.
The copy boy was at my elbow again.

"Hang you!" said I.