A week ago all the sunshine in the world had come
from Phyllis's face; a shadow had come between. Oh, I knew the
symptoms. They were not new to me. They had visited me some five
years back, and had clung to me with the tenacity of a creditor to a
man with expectations. When a man arrives at that point where he wants
the society of one woman all to himself, the matter assumes serious
proportions. And a man likes to fall in love with one woman and
continue to love her all his days; it is more romantic. It annoys him
to face the fact that he is about to fall in love with another. In my
case I felt that there was some extenuation. Gretchen looked like
Phyllis. When I saw Gretchen in the garden and then went to my room
and gazed upon the likeness of Phyllis, I was much like the bachelor
Heine tells about--I doddered.
The red squirrel in the branches above me looked wisely. He was
wondering how long before the green burrs would parch and give him
their brown chestnuts. I was contemplating a metaphysical burr. I
wanted to remain true to Phyllis, though there wasn't any sense in my
doing so.
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