I was telling the girls about that afternoon
at the club, when you were simply killing us all with
those funny stories of yours, and they're all wild over
it."
"Wild?" I repeated.
"Yes, quite wild over it. They say it will be the hit of
the summer."
Beverly-Jones shook hands with great warmth as we parted
for the night. I knew that he was thinking that my
character was about to be triumphantly vindicated, and
that he was glad for my sake.
Last night I did not sleep. I remained awake all night
thinking of the "entertainment." In my whole life I have
done nothing in public except once when I presented a
walking-stick to the vice-president of our club on the
occasion of his taking a trip to Europe. Even for that
I used to rehearse to myself far into the night sentences
that began: "This walking-stick, gentleman, means far
more than a mere walking-stick."
And now they expect me to come out as a merry
master-of-ceremonies before an assembled crowd of summer
guests.
But never mind. It is nearly over now. I have come down
to this quiet water in the early morning to throw myself
in. They will find me floating here among the lilies.
Some few will understand. I can see it written, as it
will be, in the newspapers.
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