There is no doubt of the fact that he disliked the successful new aviators, and did so because he was jealous of them. He admitted the fact, but he could not put into his desire to be a good boy one-quarter of the force that inspired his resentment at being a lonely man and a nobody. But, since he knew he was envious, he was careful not to show it, not to inflict it upon others. He was gracious and added a wrinkle between his brows, and said "Gosh!" and "ain't" much less often. He had few friends these days. Death had taken many; and he was wary of lion-hunters, who in dull seasons condescend to ex-lions and dethroned princes. But he was fond of a couple of Aero Club men, an automobile ex-racer who was a selling-agent for the VanZile Corporation, and Charley Forbes, the bright-eyed, curly-headed, busy, dissipated little reporter who had followed him from Chicago to New York for the _Chronicle_. Occasionally one of the men with whom he had flown--Hank Odell or Walter MacMonnies or Lieutenant Rutledge of the navy--came to town, and Carl felt natural again. As for women, the only girl whom he had known well in years, Istra Nash, the painter, had gone to California to keep house for her father till she should have an excuse to escape to New York or Europe again. Inside the office--a hustling, optimistic young business man. For the rest of the time--a dethroned prince. Such was Carl Ericson in November, 1912, when a letter from Gertrude Cowles, which had pursued him all over America and Europe, finally caught him: ---- West 157th St. NEW YORK. CARL DEAR,--Oh such excitement, we have come to _New York_ to live! Ray has such a good position with a big NY real estate co. & Mama & I are going to make a home for him even if it's only just a flat (but it's quite a big one & looks out on the duckiest old house that must have been adorning Harlem for heaven knows how long,) & our house has all modern conveniences, elevator & all. Think, Carl, I'm going to study dancing at Madame Vashkowska's school--she was with the Russian ballet & really is almost as wonderful a dancer as Isadora Duncan or Pavlova. Perhaps I'll teach all these ducky new dances to children some day. I'm just terribly excited to be here, like the silliest gushiest little girl in the world. And I do hope so much you will be able to come to NY & honor us with your presence at dinner, famous aviator--our Carl & we are so _proud_ of you--if you will still remember simple people like us do come _any time_. Wonder where you will be when this reaches you. I read in the papers that your accident isn't serious but I am worried, oh Carl you must take care of yourself. Yours as ever, GERTIE. P.S. Mama sends her best regards, so does Ray, he has a black mustache now, we tease him about it dreadfully. G.