the theatres--the "little" ones--amusing dinners at fashionable
restaurants, and reckless evenings in haunts where she thrilled with
simple glee at the thought of what she must so obviously be "taken for."
All these familiar diversions regained, for Ralph, a fresh zest in her
company. Her innocence, her high spirits, her astounding comments and
credulities, renovated the old Parisian adventure and flung a veil of
romance over its hackneyed scenes. Beheld through such a medium the
future looked less near and implacable, and Ralph, when he had received
a reassuring letter from his sister, let his conscience sleep and
slipped forth on the high tide of pleasure. After all, in New York
amusements would be fewer, and their life, for a time, perhaps more
quiet. Moreover, Ralph's dim glimpses of Mr. Spragg's past suggested
that the latter was likely to be on his feet again at any moment, and
atoning by redoubled prodigalities for his temporary straits; and beyond
all these possibilities there was the book to be written--the book on
which Ralph was sure he should get a real hold as soon as they settled
down in New York.

Meanwhile the daily cost of living, and the bills that could not be
deferred, were eating deep into Laura's subsidy. Ralph's anxieties
returned, and his plight was brought home to him with a shock when, on
going one day to engage passages, he learned that the prices were that
of the "rush season," and one of the conditions immediate payment. At
other times, he was told the rules were easier; but in September and
October no exception could be made.

As he walked away with this fresh weight on his mind he caught sight of
the strolling figure of Peter Van Degen--Peter lounging and luxuriating
among the seductions of the Boulevard with the disgusting ease of a man
whose wants are all measured by money, and who always has enough to