XI
THE SHOCKS OF DOOM
There is an aristocracy of the public parks and even of the vagabonds
who use them for their private apartments. Vallance felt rather than
knew this, but when he stepped down out of his world into chaos his
feet brought him directly to Madison Square.
Raw and astringent as a schoolgirl--of the old order--young May
breathed austerely among the budding trees. Vallance buttoned his
coat, lighted his last cigarette and took his seat upon a bench.
For three minutes he mildly regretted the last hundred of his last
thousand that it had cost him when the bicycle cop put an end to
his last automobile ride. Then he felt in every pocket and found
not a single penny. He had given up his apartment that morning. His
furniture had gone toward certain debts. His clothes, save what were
upon him, had descended to his man-servant for back wages. As he sat
there was not in the whole city for him a bed or a broiled lobster
or a street-car fare or a carnation for buttonhole unless he should
obtain them by sponging on his friends or by false pretenses.
Therefore he had chosen the park.
And all this was because an uncle had disinherited him, and cut down
his allowance from liberality to nothing. And all that was because
his nephew had disobeyed him concerning a certain girl, who comes not
into this story--therefore, all readers who brush their hair toward
its roots may be warned to read no further. There was another nephew,
of a different branch, who had once been the prospective heir and
favorite.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89