"Dare say. We're offered every inducement to postpone it. We Americans are as pleased with Europe as children at a fair. We run up and down your marts with our purses out, delighted, astonished at your wares, at your ways; we want a souvenir from every booth, we want a peep at every side-show, we think it impossible ever to tire of the merry-go-round." His voice dropped. "When the night comes we're ready to go home." "Night? _Niaiserie!_" Gano jumped up and paced the deck. "I say, Henri, do you mind going back to Marseilles? If you do, mind, I must--" "Of course I don't mind. It'll give you time to recover on the way." He laughed good-naturedly. His companion paced silently up and down in the fading light. "I've known other fellows," De Poincy went on, after a long silence--"plenty of others, get rather feverish about the U. S. A., but I didn't expect it of you." "Oh, I'm just like the rest." "Hadn't observed the likeness before." "I've found the Old World life a good enough game to play at; _I've_ got no reason to complain." "Thanks, I'm sure, in the name of France, not to mention England and Italy." "Oh, you understand me well enough. It's wonderfully attractive, this charming Old World, but from our point of view it isn't life." "Pretty good imitation." "That's just it," he laughed. "It's pretty and it's good, but it's _imitation_. It copies, with Chinese fidelity, old originals that were once, long ago, alive and quick; but to-day--" "You're taking a leaf out of your old governor's book," said De Poincy, with smiling malice. "I hear cousin Aaron now." And he caricatured him mercilessly. "'To an American, sir, Europe is either a museum or a scene out of a comic opera.' Now, if one said anything like that of America you'd declare war by return of post. But we"--he lit his cigarette and threw away the match with a flourish--"we are amused; we give you exactly the license you demand--that of the child at a fair." "Well, look here, old man"--Gano laid his hand on De Poincy's shoulder--"this child wants to catch the first boat home." CHAPTER XVIII He was really coming this time; in less than an hour he would be at the Fort. They were all sitting in the parlor, waiting, in festal array. Late as it was in the year, the clear autumn afternoon was steeped in warm sunshine. An occasional golden dogwood leaf fluttered past the open windows, like a lazy yellow bird.