“You see, all rash vows are verbal or nothing. There might be a debate about the logical and literal way in which my friend Hood fulfilled _his_ rash vow. But I put it to myself in the same pedantic sort of way. It wasn’t possible to eat any hat that I wore. But it might be possible to wear a hat that I could eat. Articles of dress could hardly be used for diet; but articles of diet could really be used for dress. It seemed to me that I might fairly be said to have made it my hat, if I wore it systematically as a hat and had no other, putting up with all the disadvantages. Making a blasted fool of myself was the fair price to be paid for the vow or wager; for one ought always to lose something on a wager.” And he rose from the table with a gesture of apology. The girl stood up. “I think it’s perfectly splendid,” she said. “It’s as wild as one of those stories about looking for the Holy Grail.” The lawyer also had risen, rather abruptly, and stood stroking his long chin with his thumb and looking at his old friend under bent brows in a rather reflective manner. “Well, you’ve subpœna’d me as a witness all right,” he said, “and now, with the permission of the court, I’ll leave the witness-box. I’m afraid I must be going. I’ve got important business at home. Good-bye, Miss Smith.” The girl returned his farewell a little mechanically; and Crane seemed to recover suddenly from a similar trance as he stepped after the retreating figure of his friend. “I say, Owen,” he said hastily, “I’m sorry you’re leaving so early. Must you really go?” “Yes,” replied Owen Hood gravely. “My private affairs are quite real and practical, I assure you.” His grave mouth worked a little humorously at the corners as he added: “The truth is, I don’t think I mentioned it, but I’m thinking of getting married.” “Married!” repeated the Colonel, as if thunderstruck. “Thanks for your compliments and congratulations, old fellow,” said the satiric Mr. Hood. “Yes, it’s all been thought out. I’ve even decided whom I am going to marry. She knows about it herself. She has been warned.” “I really beg your pardon,” said the Colonel in great distress, “of course I congratulate you most heartily; and her even more heartily. Of course I’m delighted to hear it. The truth is, I was surprised ... not so much in that way....” “Not so much in what way?” asked Hood. “I suppose you mean some would say I am on the way to be an old bachelor. But I’ve discovered it isn’t half so much a matter of years as of ways. Men like me get elderly more by choice than chance; and there’s much more choice and less chance in life than your modern fatalists make out. For such people fatalism falsifies even chronology. They’re not unmarried because they’re old. They’re old because they’re unmarried.”