Standing on the platform in the glare of the electric lights, under the amused eye of the policeman, they kissed each other. “I _must_ go to that rehearsal at ten o’clock!” she said. “You shall have three cups of the best coffee the Wilson Avenue Tea and Coffee Store affords,” he said smiling, “made by the most expert hands.” She looked frightened. “Let’s _walk_ up to Wilson Avenue,” she said suddenly. “Good. We can make it by breakfast time. I’d like a nice long walk!” “No,” she said. “There’s our train coming! Besides, I can change my mind several times more on the way up....” 2 “You do make good coffee, Felix!” she said, the next morning. “One more cup, and I think I’ll be equal to the rehearsal. No, you mustn’t come with me.” “I wasn’t going to go with you, foolish child. I’m merely going to escort you to the front door.” At the street door she kissed him. “Don’t expect me!” she said. “If you wait for me, I shan’t come back.” “And if I don’t?” “You’ll probably find me curled up on your doorstep when you come home. Good-bye.” He watched her disappear around the corner, then went out and looked on the sidewalk, and in the street. He was looking for a little book which he had tossed out of the window the night before. He did not find it. Somebody had picked it up and carried it away.... But that was better than finding it crumpled and muddy in the gutter. It was the last thing binding him to his old life, and it was just as well that it should be utterly gone. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LVII. Three Days 1 “THERE are,” writes the learned Winckler in his History of Love, “erotic adventures, or misadventures, which do not arise from any real emotion between the two people immediately concerned, but are a banal reaction from the recent—or even remote—hurts of some other, authentic relationship. Made much of in modern fiction, these misadventures scarcely deserve such attention. It is unprofitable, even for the philosophic moralist, to inquire closely into the details of such baffling relationships; if mere flirtations, they are adulteries none the less; and if adulteries, they still remain mere flirtations. Lacking as they do any personal significance, these misadventures are as devoid of lasting interest to others as to the misadventures themselves.”