“Hullo, Madden!” said some one as I wrote the last line, and looking up I saw young Hadsley, a breezy cotillion leader, who had recently been admitted into his father’s law firm.
“Rotten nuisance, this early snow,” went on Hadsley. “Mucks things up so. ’Fraid it’ll spoil the game on Saturday.”
“I hope not,” I replied fervently. The game was the Yale-Princeton football match, and I was terribly eager to see my old college win.
“By the way,” suggested Hadsley, “if you care to go I’ll run you down on my car.”
“Of course, I’d like it,” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’ll be simply delighted.” Then like a flash I remembered.
“Oh, no! After all, I’m sorry, I can’t. I expect to be in mid-ocean by Saturday.”
“Ah, indeed! That sounds interesting. Going to Europe! Wish I was. When do you start?”
“To-morrow on the Garguantuan.”
“You don’t say! Why, the Chumley Graces are going on her. Of course, you remember the three girls—awfully jolly, play golf divinely, used to be called the Three Graces? They’re so peeved they’re missing the game, but the old man won’t stay for it. They’re taking their car and going to tour Europe. How nice for you! You’ll have no end of a good time going over.”
Malediction! Could I never out-pace prosperity? Could I never throw off the yoke of fortune?