Page:Henry B. Fuller - Bertram Cope's Year, 1919.djvu/203

 at Fort Lodge to reinforce the written page by the spoken word! Still forgetful of his engagement with Randolph, he continued to walk the streets. He turned in at midnight, hoping he might sleep, and trusting that morning would throw a less sinister light on his misadventure.

Long before this, Joseph Foster had been put to bed, by Sing-Lo, in the spare room. It was Foster’s crutch, rather than a knightly sword, which leaned against the door-jamb; and it was Foster’s crooked members, rather than the straight young limbs of Cope, which first found place among the sheets and blankets of that shining new brass bedstead.