the open window, and peacefully drank in the glory of a new world. But
more than once he choked down a sob rising in his throat.






AN UPSET PRICE

Once Secord was as fine a man to look at as you would care to see: with a
large intelligent eye, a clear, healthy skin, and a full, brown beard.
He walked with a spring, had a gift of conversation, and took life as he
found it, never too seriously, yet never carelessly. That was before he
left the village of Pontiac in Quebec to offer himself as a surgeon to
the American Army. When he came back there was a change in him. He was
still handsome, but something of the spring had gone from his walk, the
quick light of his eyes had given place to a dark, dreamy expression, his
skin became a little dulled, and his talk slower, though not less musical
or pleasant. Indeed, his conversation had distinctly improved.
Previously there was an undercurrent of self-consciousness; it was all
gone now. He talked as one knowing his audience. His office became
again, as it had been before, a rendezvous for the few interesting men
of the place, including the Avocat, the Cure, the Little Chemist, and
Medallion. They played chess and ecarte for certain hours of certain
evenings in the week at Secord's house. Medallion was the first to
notice that the wife--whom Secord had married soon after he came back
from the war--occasionally put down her work and looked with a curious
inquiring expression at her husband as he talked. It struck Medallion
that she was puzzled by some change in Secord.