Of a sudden life became glorious--more glorious than he had ever believed possible. It commenced on the morning after he had written his letter to Hal. He was seated in the white mirrored room of the Brevoort which looks out on Fifth Avenue. From the kitchen came the mutter of bass voices, passing orders along in French, and the cheerful smell of roasting coffee. Scattered between tables, meditative waiters were dreaming that they were artists’ models, each with a graceful hand resting on the back of a chair in readiness to flick it out invitingly at the first sight of an uncaptured guest. From the left arm of each dangled a napkin, betraying that he had served his appenticeship in boulevard cafés of Paris. Outside, at irregular intervals, green buses raced smoothly with a _whirr-whirr_, which effaced during the moment of their passage the clippity-clap of horses. Past the window, from thinning trees, leaves drifted. When they had reached the pavement, the breeze stirred them and they struggled weakly to rise like crippled moths. There was an invigorating chill in the October air as though the sunshine had been placed on ice. Pedestrians moved briskly with their shoulders flung back. They seemed to be smiling over the great discovery that life was worth living, after all. A boy halted under the archway and threw about him a searching glance. Catching sight of Teddy, he hurried over and whispered. Teddy rose. In the hall the telephone-clerk was watching. “Booth number three, Mr. Gurney.” As he lifted the receiver he was still discussing with himself whether or no he should send Hal that letter. “Yes. It’s Mr. Gurney.” A faint and unfamiliar voice answered--a woman’s voice, exceedingly pleasant, with a soft slurring accent. It was a voice that, whatever it said, seemed to be saying, “I do want you to like me.” “I didn’t quite catch. Would you mind speaking a little louder?” he asked. There was a laughing dispute at the other end; then the voice which he had heard at first spoke again: “This is Janice Audrey, Desire’s friend--Fluffy. Desire’s too shy to phone herself, so I---- She’s here at my elbow. She says that she’s not shy any longer and she’ll speak with you herself.” It was as though he could feel her gray eyes watching. A pause. Then, without preliminaries: “You can’t guess where I am. For all you know, I might be dead and this might be my ghost.--No. Let me do the talking. It’s long distance from Boston and expensive; I don’t know how many cents per second. If you were here, I’d let you do the paying; but since you’re not---- Here’s what I called up to tell you: we’re coming in on the Bay State Limited at three o’clock.--I thought you’d be interested. Ta-ta.” He commenced a hurried question; she had rung off.