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Updated: June 28, 2025
Still he had nothing against the fellow except that he was a "dude" and something of an ass, whose outlook on life was so different from Petro's that friendship was impossible. They met occasionally at the New Cosmopolitan Club, of which they had both been members for some years, and at houses where their different "sets" touched distantly.
I will not deny that some have pretended to say, that Petro's father was a native of Gallia Transpadana , whose employment was to hire workpeople who used to emigrate every year from the country of the Umbria into that of the Sabines, to assist them in their husbandry ; but who settled at last in the town of Reate, and there married.
It was only next morning, when the world showed its practical side, that she realized how seldom in real life romances can be worked out to a happy ending or, at all events, the kind of happy ending the people concerned are striving after. "I'll do my best, though," she reiterated, "for Petro's sake and for mine."
He gave the second one unwillingly; and not one moment before he thought it absolutely necessary to do so; all those on the ground could have borne testimony that there was scarcely an instant of time that Carlton had not Petro's life at his command, if he had chosen to take it.
It seemed to her that a girl who could have Petro's friendship and then drop it like a hot chestnut didn't deserve him for a friend, much less a lover. But there must have been some reason. It wouldn't have been human nature, to put things on their lowest level, for a girl in Miss Child's position to "turn down" a young man in Peter Rolls's for a mere whim.
There was Petro's chance to score, and right or wrong he took it. "Then things have changed since the days when you were being brought up," he said, with one of those straight, clear looks old Peter had always disliked as between son and father. "Because, you know you promised Ena you would give up going to the store except for important business meetings once or twice a year.
The creature looked brave and rather sweet, and Miss Rolls was quite sorry for her; but the thing had to be done. "Petro, you go away and let us have a talk," said Petro's kind sister gayly. "Two is company; three's none." And Petro went, thinking Ena the grandest sort of a pal. He had done his best for her already.
In an old glass-fronted, secretary bookcase of mahogany, the first piece of "parlour furniture" his parents had ever bought, were the dear books of Petro's boyhood and early youth, and above, on the gray-papered wall, hung a portrait of mother, which her son had had painted by an unfashionable artist as a "birthday present from his affectionate self" at the age of sixteen.
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