verb dropping into his mind with the aplomb of an inspiration, are the difficulties that beset a man directly he begins to twinkle.  Already he had earnestly wished to knock the reception clerk in the hotel office down because of, first, his obvious suspicion of the party before he had heard Mr. Twist’s name, and because of, second, his politeness, his confidential manner as of an understanding sympathizer with a rich man’s recreations, when he had.  The tea, which he, had poured out of one of his own teapots, had been completely spoilt by the knowledge that it was only this teapot that had saved him from being treated as a White Slave Trafficker.  He wouldn’t have got into that hotel at all with the Twinklers, or into any other decent one, except for his teapot.  What a country, Mr. Twist had thought, fresh from his work in France, fresh from where people were profoundly occupied with the great business of surviving at all.  Here he came back from a place where civilization toppled, where deadly misery, deadly bravery, heroism that couldn’t be uttered, staggered month after month among ruins, and found America untouched, comfortable, fat, still with time to worry over the suspected amorousness of the rich, still putting people into uniforms in order to buttonhole a man on landing and cross-question him as to his private purities.

He had been much annoyed, but he too couldn’t resist the extreme pleasure of real exercise on such a lovely evening, nor could he resist the infection of the cheerfulness of the Twinklers.  They walked along, talking and laughing, and seeming to walk much faster than he did, especially Anna-Rose who had to break into a run every few steps because of his so much longer legs, his face restored to all its usual kindliness as he listened benevolently to their remarks, and just when they were beginning to feel as if they soon might be tired and hungry a restaurant with lamp-hung gardens appeared as punctually as if they had been in Germany, that land of nicely arranged distances between meals.  They had an extremely cheerful little supper out of doors, with things to eat that thrilled the Twinklers in their delicious strangeness; heavenly food, they thought it after the rigours of the second-class cooking on the St. Luke, and the biggest ices they had seen in their lives,—­great dollops of pink and yellow divineness.

Then Mr. Twist took them in a taxi to look at the illuminated advertisements in Broadway, and they forgot everything but the joy of the moment.  Whatever the next day held, this evening was sheer happiness.  Their eyes shone and their cheeks flushed, and Mr. Twist was quite worried that they were so pretty.  People at the other tables at the restaurant had stared at them with frank admiration, and so did the people in the streets whenever the taxi was blocked.  On the ship he had only sometimes been aware of it,—­there would come a glint of sunshine and settle on Anna-Rose’s