experiment like that: if you stare long enough--"

But McKnight was growing sulky: he sat looking rigidly ahead, and
he did not speak again until he brought the Cannonball to a stop
at the station. Even then it was only a perfunctory remark. He
went through the gate with me, and with five minutes to spare, we
lounged and smoked in the train shed. My mind had slid away from
my surroundings and had wandered to a polo pony that I couldn't
afford and intended to buy anyhow. Then McKnight shook off his
taciturnity.

"For heaven's sake, don't look so martyred," he burst out; "I know
you've done all the traveling this summer. I know you're missing a
game to-morrow. But don't be a patient mother; confound it, I have
to go to Richmond on Sunday. I--I want to see a girl."

"Oh, don't mind me," I observed politely. "Personally, I wouldn't
change places with you. What's her name--North? South?"

"West," he snapped. "Don't try to be funny. And all I have to say,
Blakeley, is that if you ever fall in love I hope you make an
egregious ass of yourself."

In view of what followed, this came rather close to prophecy.

The trip west was without incident. I played bridge with a
furniture dealer from Grand Rapids, a sales agent for a Pittsburg
iron firm and a young professor from an eastern college. I won
three rubbers out of four, finished what cigarettes McKnight had
left me, and went to bed at one o'clock. It was growing cooler,