that she should have been the inspiration of his swinging verses in waltz
measure, "Heart-strings on a Violin," the sense of which was that when a
violin had played for her dancing, the instrument should be shattered as
wine-glasses are after a great toast. However, no one, except the author
himself, knew that Betty was the subject; for Crailey certainly did not
mention it to Miss Bareaud, nor to his best friend, Vanrevel.

It was to some degree a strange comradeship between these two young men;
their tastes led them so often in opposite directions. They had rooms to-
gether over their offices in the "Madrillon Block" on Main Street, and the
lights shone late from their windows every night in the year. Sometimes
that would mean only that the two friends were talking, for they never
reached a silent intimacy, but, even after several years of companionship,
were rarely seen together when not in interested, often eager,
conversation, so that people wondered what in the world they still found
to say to each other. But many a night the late-shining lamp meant that
Tom sat alone, with a brief or a book, or wooed the long hours with his
magical guitar. For he never went to bed until the other came home.

And if daylight came without Crailey, Vanrevel would go out, yawning
mightily, to look for him; and when there was no finding him, Tom would
come back, sleepless, to the day's work. Crailey was called "peculiar"
and he explained, with a kind of jovial helplessness, that he was always
prepared for the unexpected in himself, nor did such a view detract from
his picturesqueness to his own perusal of himself; though it was not only
to himself that he was interesting. To the vision of the lookers-on in
Rouen, quiet souls who hovered along the walls at merry-makings and
cheerfully counted themselves spectators at the play, Crailey Gray held
the centre of the stage and was the chief comedian of the place. Wit,
poet, and scapegrace, the small society sometimes seemed the mere