“Come? I would—”
“Be not too sure. A year is a long time. No! I do not doubt you. But—but—Kiss me once more, Walter! On the lips! Kiss me! And then leave me, for this is good-by.”
CHAPTER VIII
Topham and Rutile met at dinner that night, but neither touched on the subject that lay nearest the navy officer’s heart. Topham was slow to tell his feelings at any time, and in this particular instance he wanted to think a little more before he made a confidant of any one. Rutile, on the other hand, did not care to attempt to force the other’s confidence. So they talked the meal through on indifferent topics.
Dinner over, Rutile excused himself. “I’m awfully sorry, old man,” he said. “But I find I can’t be with you until late tonight. I’ve got about three hours of work that must be done, even if the heavens fall. I hate to leave you on your only night here, but—”
“Nonsense. That’s all right! I know what orders are. I’ll make out. I—well, I’ve got to think something out, myself, and I’ll be glad of the chance. Just tell me where I can go and moon about—”
“Why not go out to the Thiergarten? The band will be playing and everybody will be there, but you can be as lonely as you please, if you please. Stay there a few hours and then show up at the embassy about eleven or twelve o’clock and we’ll have a talk or go out and paint the town, whichever you like. Berlin isn’t Paris, but it doesn’t go to bed by curfew law, either.”
“Thank you! I’ll do as you say. But I don’t care to incarnadine anything. How do I get to this Thiergarten place?”
Rutile told him and an hour later Topham was walking along the spacious roadways of the park, thinking of nearly everything but his surroundings.
He was twenty-five, clean-shaven, Gibsonesque, with the erect carriage that bespeaks military training. As he moved slowly through the crowd, many halted for a second and glanced at him before turning to the next corner in the kaleidoscopic throng. Two looks are the best compliment a stranger can pay; a single glance asserts insignificance, and three glances argue peculiarity. Walter Topham was neither insignificant nor peculiar.