He had started out to go anywhere or nowhere, but the next hour found him in the presence of Cherokee, and she was saying:
“How awfully fond you are of giving pleasant surprises.”
“I am amazed at myself for coming such a night, and that too without your permission.”
“We are always glad to see you, but Fred and I had contemplated braving the weather to go to hear Paderewski,” she said, sweetly.
“Then don’t let me detain you, I beg of you,” he answered, with profound regret.
“Oh, that’s all right, we have an hour or more, I am all ready, so you stay and go in as we do.”
“No, I will not go with you, but will stay awhile, since you are kind enough to permit me.” And he laughed, a little mournfully.
“Cherokee, I have come for two reasons—to tell you that I am going home to Maryland to see a sick mother, and to tell you——” He paused, hesitating, a great bitterness welled up in his breast; a firmness came about his mouth and he went on:
“It is folly for you to persuade yourself that you could accommodate your future life to sacrifice, poverty—this is all wrong. When we look it coldly in the face it is a fact, and we may dispute facts but it is difficult to alter them.”