That Affair at Elizabeth

That seems to be all right, Lester, said Mr. Royce, and handed the papers back to me. I'll be mighty glad when we get that off our hands.
So, I knew, would the whole force of the office, for the case had been an unusually irritating one, tangling itself up in the most unexpected ways, until, with petitions and counter-petitions and answers and demurrers and what not, we were all heartily tired of it. I slipped the papers into an envelope and shot them into a pigeon-hole with a sigh of relief.
I think that'll end it, I said. I don't see how there can be any further delay.
No, agreed our junior, neither do I. Are the papers in the Griffin case ready?
Not yet; I doubt if they will be ready before this afternoon.
Well, they can wait, he said, and glanced at his watch. I want to catch the ten-ten for Elizabeth.
For Elizabeth?
Yes. I know it's a mighty awkward time for me to leave, but it's an engagement I've got to keep. You've heard me speak of Burr Curtiss?
Yes, I said; I seem to remember the name.
He's been one of my best friends for the past ten years. I met him first at Yale, and a liking sprang up between us, which grew stronger as time went on. I played a sort of second fiddle to him, then, for he was president of the class in his senior year and was voted the most popular man in it. He came to New York, as soon as he was graduated, and got a place on the construction staff of the Pennsylvania road. He was assigned to one of the western divisions, and I didn't see anything of him for two or three years, but finally he was recalled, and we used to hobnob at the University Club. Since my marriage, he comes around to smoke a pipe with me occasionally and talk over old times. He's a social fellow, likes companionship, and, my wife says, is just the man to make a woman happy; so when he wrote me a note, two months ago, announcing his engagement, we were naturally curious concerning the woman in the case—for his ideals were high—too high, I always told him.