it passed very quickly. Sometimes it came back; sometimes it did n't; for more than once they had seen it pass for the last time. They were veteran tourists, and they knew perfectly when to get up and when to remain seated. Mr. Freer went on with his proposition: "Some young fellow is certain to do it, and one of these girls is certain to take the risk. They must take risks, over here, more and more."
"The girls, I have no doubt, will be glad enough; they have had very little chance as yet. But I don't want Jackson to begin."
"Do you know I rather think I do," said Dexter Freer; "it will be very amusing."
"For us, perhaps, but not for him; he will repent of it, and be wretched. He is too good for that."
"Wretched, never! He has no capacity for wretchedness; and that 's why he can afford to risk it."
"He will have to make great concessions," Mrs. Freer remarked.
"He won't make one."
"I should like to see."
"You admit, then, that it will be amusing, which is all I contend for. But, as you say, we are talking as if it were settled, whereas there is probably nothing in it after all. The best stories always turn out false. I shall be sorry in this case."
They relapsed into silence, while people passed and repassed them—continuous, successive, mechanical, with strange sequences of faces. They looked at the people, but no one looked at them, though every one
