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Updated: August 9, 2024
And one exquisite May morning he came down to breakfast and found the unspeakable Kerns immersed in grapefruit, calm, well balanced, and bland. "How-de-dee, dear friend?" said that gentleman affably. "Any news from Cupid this beautiful May morning?" "No; and I don't want any," returned Gatewood, sorting his mail with a scowl and waving away his fruit. "Tut, tut! Lovers must be patient.
I do not wish you to continue the search, or to send me any further reports. I want to forget the whole miserable matter to be free to feel myself freed from any obligations to that irritating person I asked you to find." The Tracer regarded him very gravely. "Is that your wish, Mr. Gatewood? I can scarcely credit it." "It is.
When he had finished he settled his new straw hat more comfortably on his head, and, leaning forward and balancing his malacca walking stick across his knees, gazed at Gatewood with composure. "Crank up!" he said pleasantly; "I'm going in less than three minutes."
"Because it is my duty to do all I can to secure evidence which may lead to the discovery of the person you desire to find. I I assure you, Mr, Gatewood, this duty is not not always agreeable and some people make it harder still." Gatewood looked out of the window.
"Oh, I knew it; I know lots about you, you see.... Then there is Phil Gatewood a perfectly splendid fellow, and Alex Anan a dear boy, ready to adore any girl who looks sideways at him.... I don't remember who else is to lunch with us, except my brother Gray. Look, Mr. Hamil! They've actually sat down to luncheon without waiting for us! What horrid incivility!
For the slightest fraction of a second the brown eyes rested on his, the pencil hovered in hesitation. Then the eyes fell, and the moving fingers wrote. "Did you write 'twenty-one'?" he inquired carelessly. "I did not, Mr. Gatewood." "What did you write?" "I wrote: 'He doesn't appear to know much about her age." "But I do know " "You said " They looked at one another earnestly.
There'll be etwas doing." "Can't you ever recover from being an undergraduate?" asked Gatewood, disgusted. "Well is there anything the matter with a man getting next to a little amusement in life?" asked Kerns. "Do you object to my being happy?" "Amusement? You don't know how to amuse yourself. You don't know how to be happy.
"Good-by, Miss Southerland. I hope you may find the person I have been searching for." "Good-by, Mr. Gatewood. . . . I hope we shall; . . . but I don't know." And, as a matter of fact, she did not know; she was rather excited over nothing, apparently; and also somewhat preoccupied with several rather disturbing emotions the species of which she was interested in determining.
I know you." "I never have seen my ideal," retorted Gatewood sulkily, "but I know she exists somewhere between heaven and Hoboken." "You're sure, are you?" "Oh, I'm sure. And, rich or poor, good or bad, she was fashioned for me alone. That's a theory of mine; you needn't accept it; in fact, it's none of your business, Tommy."
Immersed in moral reflections, inspired by affectionate obligations to violently inflict happiness upon Kerns, the minutes passed very agreeably until the amused voice of the Tracer of Lost Persons sounded again in the receiver. "Mr. Gatewood?" "Yes, I am here, Mr. Keen." "Do you really think it best for Mr. Kerns to fall in love?" "I do, certainly!" replied Gatewood with emphasis.
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