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going　to　pieces。　　Moreover　didn't　she　mention　that　Mr。　Moreen　and

the　others　were　enjoying　themselves　at　the　opera　with　Mr。　Granger；

and　wasn't　THAT　also　precisely　where　one　would　look　for　them　on　the

eve　of　a　smash？　　Pemberton　gathered　that　Mr。　Granger　was　a　rich

vacant　American　…　a　big　bill　with　a　flourishy　heading　and　no　items；

so　that　one　of　Paula's　〃ideas〃　was　probably　that　this　time　she

hadn't　missed　fire　…　by　which　straight　shot　indeed　she　would　have

shattered　the　general　cohesion。　　And　if　the　cohesion　was　to　crumble

what　would　become　of　poor　Pemberton？　　He　felt　quite　enough　bound　up

with　them　to　figure　to　his　alarm　as　a　dislodged　block　in　the

edifice。



It　was　Morgan　who　eventually　asked　if　no　supper　had　been　ordered

for　him；　sitting　with　him　below；　later；　at　the　dim　delayed　meal；　in

the　presence　of　a　great　deal　of　corded　green　plush；　a　plate　of

ornamental　biscuit　and　an　aloofness　marked　on　the　part　of　the

waiter。　　Mrs。　Moreen　had　explained　that　they　had　been　obliged　to

secure　a　room　for　the　visitor　out　of　the　house；　and　Morgan's

consolation　…　he　offered　it　while　Pemberton　reflected　on　the

nastiness　of　lukewarm　sauces　…　proved　to　be；　largely；　that　his

circumstance　would　facilitate　their　escape。　　He　talked　of　their

escape　…　recurring　to　it　often　afterwards　…　as　if　they　were　making

up　a　〃boy's　book〃　together。　　But　he　likewise　expressed　his　sense

that　there　was　something　in　the　air；　that　the　Moreens　couldn't　keep

it　up　much　longer。　　In　point　of　fact；　as　Pemberton　was　to　see；　they

kept　it　up　for　five　or　six　months。　　All　the　while；　however；

Morgan's　contention　was　designed　to　cheer　him。　　Mr。　Moreen　and

Ulick；　whom　he　had　met　the　day　after　his　return；　accepted　that

return　like　perfect　men　of　the　world。　　If　Paula　and　Amy　treated　it

even　with　less　formality　an　allowance　was　to　be　made　for　them；

inasmuch　as　Mr。　Granger　hadn't　come　to　the　opera　after　all。　　He　had

only　placed　his　box　at　their　service；　with　a　bouquet　for　each　of

the　party；　there　was　even　one　apiece；　embittering　the　thought　of

his　profusion；　for　Mr。　Moreen　and　Ulick。　　〃They're　all　like　that；〃

was　Morgan's　comment；　〃at　the　very　last；　just　when　we　think　we've

landed　them　they're　back　in　the　deep　sea！〃



Morgan's　comments　in　these　days　were　more　and　more　free；　they　even

included　a　large　recognition　of　the　extraordinary　tenderness　with

which　he　had　been　treated　while　Pemberton　was　away。　　Oh　yes；　they

couldn't　do　enough　to　be　nice　to　him；　to　show　him　they　had　him　on

their　mind　and　make　up　for　his　loss。　　That　was　just　what　made　the

whole　thing　so　sad　and　caused　him　to　rejoice　after　all　in

Pemberton's　return　…　he　had　to　keep　thinking　of　their　affection

less；　had　less　sense　of　obligation。　　Pemberton　laughed　out　at　this

last　reason；　and　Morgan　blushed　and　said：　　〃Well；　dash　it；　you　know

what　I　mean。〃　　Pemberton　knew　perfectly　what　he　meant；　but　there

were　a　good　many　things　that　…　dash　it　too！　…　it　didn't　make　any

clearer。　　This　episode　of　his　second　sojourn　in　Paris　stretched

itself　out　wearily；　with　their　resumed　readings　and　wanderings　and

maunderings；　their　potterings　on　the　quays；　their　hauntings　of　the

museums；　their　occasional　lingerings　in　the　Palais　Royal　when　the

first　sharp　weather　came　on　and　there　was　a　comfort　in　warm

emanations；　before　Chevet's　wonderful　succulent　window。　　Morgan

wanted　to　hear　all　about　the　opulent　youth　…　he　took　an　immense

interest　in　him。　　Some　of　the　details　of　his　opulence　…　Pemberton

could　spare　him　none　of　them　…　evidently　fed　the　boy's　appreciation

of　all　his　friend　had　given　up　to　come　back　to　him；　but　in　addition

to　the　greater　reciprocity　established　by　that　heroism　he　had

always　his　little　brooding　theory；　in　which　there　was　a　frivolous

gaiety　too；　that　their　long　probation　was　drawing　to　a　close。

Morgan's　conviction　that　the　Moreens　couldn't　go　on　much　longer

kept　pace　with　the　unexpended　impetus　with　which；　from　month　to

month；　they　did　go　on。　　Three　weeks　after　Pemberton　had　rejoined

them　they　went　on　to　another　hotel；　a　dingier　one　than　the　first；

but　Morgan　rejoiced　that　his　tutor　had　at　least　still　not

sacrificed　the　advantage　of　a　room　outside。　　He　clung　to　the

romantic　utility　of　this　when　the　day；　or　rather　the　night；　should

arrive　for　their　escape。



For　the　first　time；　in　this　complicated　connexion；　our　friend　felt

his　collar　gall　him。　　It　was；　as　he　had　said　to　Mrs。　Moreen　in

Venice；　trop　fort　…　everything　was　trop　fort。　　He　could　neither

really　throw　off　his　blighting　burden　nor　find　in　it　the　benefit　of

a　pacified　conscience　or　of　a　rewarded　affection。　　He　had　spent　all

the　money　accruing　to　him　in　England；　and　he　saw　his　youth　going

and　that　he　was　getting　nothing　back　for　it。　　It　was　all　very　well

of　Morgan　to　count　it　for　reparation　that　he　should　now　settle　on

him　permanently　…　there　was　an　irritating　flaw　in　such　a　view。　　He

saw　what　the　boy　had　in　his　mind；　the　conception　that　as　his　friend

had　had　the　generosity　to　come　back　he　must　show　his　gratitude　by

giving　him　his　life。　　But　the　poor　friend　didn't　desire　the　gift　…

what　could　he　do　with　Morgan's　dreadful　little　life？　　Of　course　at

the　same　time　that　Pemberton　was　irritated　he　remembered　the

reason；　which　was　very　honourable　to　Morgan　and　which　dwelt　simply

in　his　making　one　so　forget　that　he　was　no　more　than　a　patched

urchin。　　If　one　dealt　with　him　on　a　different　basis　one's

misadventures　were　one's　own　fault。　　So　Pemberton　waited　in　a　queer

confusion　of　yearning　and　alarm　for　the　catastrophe　which　was　held

to　hang　over　the　house　of　Moreen；　of　which　he　certainly　at　moments

felt　the　symptoms　brush　his　cheek　and　as　to　which　he　wondered　much

in　what　form　it　would　find　its　liveliest　effect。



Perhaps　it　would　take　the　form　of　sudden　dispersal　…　a　frightened

sauve　qui　peut；　a　scuttling　into　selfish　corners。　　Certainly　they

were　less　elastic　than　of　yore；　they　were　evidently　looking　for

something　they　didn't　find。　　The　Dorringtons　hadn't　re…appeared；

the　princes　had　scattered；　wasn't　that　the　beginning　of　the　end？

Mrs。　Moreen　had　lost　her　reckoning　of　the　famous　〃days〃；　her　social

calendar　was　blurred　…　it　had　turned　its　face　to　the　wall。

Pemberton　suspected　that　the　great；　the　cruel　discomfiture　had　been

the　unspeakable　behaviour　of　Mr。　Granger；　who　seemed　not　to　know

what　he　wanted；　or；　what　was　much　worse；　what　they　wanted。　　He　kept

sending　flowers；　as　if　to　bestrew　the　path　of　his　retreat；　which

was　never　the　path　of　a　return。　　Flowers　were　all　very　well；　but　…

Pemberton　could　complete　the　proposition。　　It　was　now　positively

conspicuous　that　in　the　long　run　the　Moreens　were　a　social　failure；

so　that　the　young　man　was　almost　grateful　the　run　had　not　been

short。　　Mr。　Moreen　indeed　was　still　occasionally　able　to　get　away

on　business　and；　what　was　more　surprising；　was　likewise　able　to　get

back。　　Ulick　had　no　club　but　you　couldn't　have　discovered　it　from

his　appearance；　which　was　as　much　as　ever　that　of　a　person　looking

at　life　from　the　window　of　such　an　institution；　therefore　Pemberton

was　doubly　surprised　at　an　answer　he　once　heard　him　make　his　mother

in　the　desperate　tone　of　a　man　familiar　with　the　worst　privations。

Her　question　Pemberton　had　not　quite　caught；　it　appeared　to　be　an

appeal　for　a　suggestion　as　to　whom　they　might　get　to　take　Amy。

〃Let　the　Devil　take　her！〃　Ulick　snapped；　so　that　Pemberton　could

see　that　they　had　not　only　lost　their　amiability　but　had　ceased　to

believe　in　themselves。　　He　could　also　see　that　if　Mrs。　Moreen　was

trying　to　get　people　to　take　her　children　she　might　be　regarded　as

closing　the　hatches　for　the　storm。　　But　Morgan　would　be　the　last

she　would　part　with。



One　winter　afternoon　…　it　was　a　Sunday　…　he　and　the　boy　walked　far

together　in　the　Bois　de　Boulogne。　　The　evening　was　so　splendid；　the

cold　lemon…coloured　sunset　so　clear；　the　stream　of　carriages　and

pedestrians　so　amusing　and　the　fascination　of　Paris　so　great；　that

they　stayed　out　later　than　usual　and　becam