Over the way, on the jimcrack of the stately mansion opposite, the
westering sun had put an aigrette of gold. The young man with the
conquering eye had gone. A lovely Jewess, leaning like a gargoyle,
violently threatened some Ikey in the unlovely street below. Above was a
pallid green. Beyond, across the river, the sun, poised on a hill-top,
threw from its eternal palette shades of salmon and ochre that tinted an
archipelago of slender clouds. But in the street was the music of
carefree lads, playing baseball, exchanging chaste endearments. There
too was the gaiety of little trulls, hasty and happy on their
roller-skates. While perhaps to generalise these delights, a trundled
organ tossed a ragtime. The charm was certainly affecting and that charm
the horn of Paliser's approaching car merely increased.
Long since the letter had gone and, with it, another to Mrs. Yallum. In
the former, Cassy had tried to gild the pill, yet without succeeding in
disguising it.
Dear Daddy:
You are the best man in the world and the next best your little
girl is to marry now, right away, and become Mrs. Monty Paliser.
But my heart will be with you and so will Mrs. Yallum. Don't fuss
with her, there's a dear, and take your medicine regularly and be
ready to give me your blessing as soon as I can run in, which will
be at the first possible moment, when I shall have more news, good
news, better news, best of daddies, for thee.
A whirlwind of kisses,