and in two weeks he would entirely forget her. I know enough of the
race to be able to put forward this statement. Of course, it is
understood that he would have to mingle for the time among other
handsome women. Now, strive as he would, he could not think out a
feasible plan. One plan might have given him light, but the thousand
that came to him simply overwhelmed him fathoms deep. If he could
find some one he knew at the Holland House, some one who would strike
up a smoking-room acquaintance with the colonel, the rest would be
simple enough. Annesley--Annesley; he couldn't place the name. Was he
a regular, retired, or a veteran of the Civil War? And yet, the name
was not totally unfamiliar. Certainly, he was a fine-looking old
fellow, with his white hair and Alexandrian nose. And here he was,
he, Robert Warburton, in New York, simply because he happened to be
in the booking office of the _Gare du Nord_ one morning and
overheard a very beautiful girl say: "Then we shall sail from
Southampton day after to-morrow." Of a truth, it is the infinitesimal
things that count heaviest.

So deep was he in the maze of his tentative romance that when the cab
finally stopped abruptly, he was totally unaware of the transition
from activity to passivity.

"Hotel, sir!"

"Ah, yes!" Warburton leaped out, fumbled in his pocket, and brought
forth a five-dollar note, which he gave to the cabby. He did not
realize it, but this was the only piece of American money he had on
his person. Nor did he wait for the change. Mr. Robert was
exceedingly careless with his money at this stage of his infatuation;
being a soldier, he never knew the real value of legal tender. I know