The far-away look still lingered
in his eyes.
Presently he turned and spoke to me in a low, confidential
tone.
"Was I talking to myself a moment ago?" he asked. "Yes?
Ah, I feared I was. Do you know--I don't mind telling it
to you--lately I've had a strange, queer feeling that
comes over me at times, as if _something were happening_
--something, I don't know what. I suppose," he continued,
with a false attempt at resuming his fatuous manner, "I'm
going the pace a little too hard, eh! Makes one fanciful.
But the fact is, at times"--he spoke gravely again--"I
feel as if there were something happening, something
coming."
"Knickerbocker," I said earnestly, "Father Knickerbocker,
don't you know that something _is_ happening, that this
very evening as we are sitting here in all this riot,
the President of the United States is to come before
Congress on the most solemn mission that ever--"
But my speech fell unheeded. Knickerbocker had picked up
his glass again and was leering over it at a bevy of
girls dancing upon the stage.
"Look at that girl," he interrupted quickly, "the one
dancing at the end. What do you think of her, eh? Some
peach!"
Knickerbocker broke off suddenly.
Pages:
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40