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The city, during the progress of the Civil War, of which Helen had heard Augustus Lispenard speak, was clearer in her vision than ever before, for Smith's grandfather had marched down Broadway in '61, and, unlike Mr. Lispenard, he had not come back.
One felt immediately that one's hands and feet were peculiarly large and awkward, or one's last remark hopelessly banal, or one's birthplace in some cheap and innominate region outside of Manhattan. So long as Miss Wardrop remained under forty, Mr. Lispenard had held aloof.
Lispenard had been one of those who had marched down Broadway in 1861, not to return for four long years.
He was asked by some of the people he met to call, probably on Miss De Voe's suggestion, and he dutifully called. Yet at the end of three months Miss De Voe shook her head. "He is absolutely a gentleman, and people seem to like him. Yet somehow I don't understand it." "Exactly," laughed Lispenard. "You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." "Lispenard," angrily said Miss De Voe, "Mr.
"This is to be one of what Lispenard calls your 'often, frequently, only once' affairs, is it?" "I'm afraid we are early," said Mrs. D'Alloi. "We did not know how much time to allow." "No. Such old friends cannot come too soon."
"The opposite of what he says, I think," said Peter. "That is a very good description of Lispenard. Almost good enough to have been said by himself. If you don't mind, I'll tell him." "No." "Do tell me, Mr. Stirling, how you and Watts D'Alloi came to room together?" "He asked me." "Yes. But what ever made him do that?" "I've often wondered myself."
Miss De Voe said: "That is not the one I should have thought of your liking." "That's womanly," said Lispenard, "they are always deciding what a man should like." "No," denied Miss De Voe. "But I should think with your liking for children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown's, rather than this sad, desolate sand-dune."
He comes down here constantly, and has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them this way." "And are the paintings his, too, Peter?" Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. "No," he managed to remark. "I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard Ogden the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and the plain, broad gold mats.
He had, too, made many friends in his commission work and politics, so that he had relatively less time to give to his older ones. The absence of Miss De Voe and Lispenard somewhat reduced his social obligations it is true, but the demands on his time were multiplying fast. One of these demands was actual law work.
From that little chit, who's known Peter half the number of months that I've known him years!" "I don't know," sighed Lispenard. "I'm not prepared to say it isn't so. Indeed, after seeing Peter, who never seemed able to understand women till this one appeared on the scene, develop into a regulation lover, I am quite prepared to believe that every one knows more than I do.
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