"You ought to see my Florrie read books!" exclaimed the mother. Flora did read a lot ... but chiefly the erotic near-society novels that Belford used to print.... "Yes, she's a smart girl, she is." And the father.... "I won't work till the unions get better conditions for a man. I won't be no slave to no man." * * * * * One sultry afternoon I went into the restaurant and found Flora away. Poignantly disappointed, I asked where she was. "--Gone on a trip!" her mother explained, without explaining. From time to time Flora went on "trips." * * * * * And one morning, several mornings, Flora was not there to serve at the breakfast table ... and I was hurt when I learned that she had gone back to Newark to live, and had left no word for me. Her father told me she "had gone back to George," meaning her never-seen husband from whom she evidently enjoyed intervals of separation and grass-widowhood. I was puzzled and hurt indeed, because she had not even said good-bye to me. But soon came this brief note from her: "Dearest Boy:-- Do come up to Newark and see me some afternoon. And come more than once. Bring your Tennyson that you was reading aloud to me. I love to hear you read poetry. I think you are a dear and want to see more of you. But I suppose you have already forgotten Your loving FLORA." In the absurd and pitiful folly of youth I lifted the letter to my lips and kissed it. I trembled with eagerness till the paper rattled as I read it again and again. It seemed like some precious holy script. I bolted my lunch nervously and it stuck half way down in a hard lump. I would go to her that very afternoon. * * * * * The car on which I rode was subject to too frequent stoppage for me. I leaped out and walked along with brisk strides. But the car sailed forth ahead of me now on a long stretch of roadway and I ran after it to catch it again. The conductor looked back at me in derisive scorn and made a significant whirling motion near his temple with his index finger, indicating that I had wheels there.... At last I found the street where Flora lived. I trailed from door to door till the number she had given me met my eye. It made my heart jump and my knees give in, to be so near the quarry. For the first time I was to be alone with a woman I desired. At the bell, it took me a long time to gain courage to pull. But at last I reached out my hand. I had to stand my ground. I couldn't run away now. The bell made a tinkling sound far within. * * * * * The door opened cautiously. A head of touseled black hair crept out. "Johnnie, dear! _You_!... you _are_ a surprise!" Did I really detect an echo of disappointment in her deep, contralto voice?