Page:Meanwhile (1927).pdf/127

 his mind and had decided to tease him. "I come from Boston," he said.

"You did well to leave."

"Why?"

"What conceivable reason was there for remaining?"

"When were you there?"

"This very year—in the spring. The lady with whom I travelled, a very old friend, treated herself to a rich American who objected to my presence on the same side of the ocean. So I withdrew."

"Without a, fight?"

"Qu'est-ce que vous voulez! Money—it's always a force majeure. Why fight it?"

The implications in these remarks were astonishing enough to make Grover feel in need of a drink, and he invited his new acquaintance,—his first real French acquaintance and for that reason not to be too carelessly relinquished,—to stop at a cafe near the Gare Montparnasse, which they had reached.

For once Grover was accepting a man at his immediate value. There were many points in the appearance and the views of his companion concerning which his judgment was being reserved: the languid pose, the floppy hat, the cynical droop of the mouth which at moments gave him the appearance of a man of forty, whereas he could not be more than twenty-eight at the most, and might even be a mere twenty-two. For the moment, however, the decadent aura enhanced the value of the companionship. This young man