"
"--You see," she added, "it isn't that I'm afraid--of this or anything
else. I'm being true to me, you know."
"I know," he agreed.
THE PRACTICAL MEN
Adam Patch, in a pious rage against the Germans, subsisted on the war
news. Pin maps plastered his walls; atlases were piled deep on tables
convenient to his hand together with "Photographic Histories of the
World War," official Explain-alls, and the "Personal Impressions" of war
correspondents and of Privates X, Y, and Z. Several times during
Anthony's visit his grandfather's secretary, Edward Shuttleworth, the
one-time "Accomplished Gin-physician" of "Pat's Place" in Hoboken, now
shod with righteous indignation, would appear with an extra. The old man
attacked each paper with untiring fury, tearing out those columns which
appeared to him of sufficient pregnancy for preservation and thrusting
them into one of his already bulging files.
"Well, what have you been doing?" he asked Anthony blandly. "Nothing?
Well, I thought so. I've been intending to drive over and see you,
all summer."
"I've been writing. Don't you remember the essay I sent you--the one I
sold to The Florentine last winter?"
"Essay? You never sent _me_ any essay.
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