Big Poker Site hazard of new fortunes 40

the facts that had been given him to digest. He pulled out his watch and glanced at it. "See here, how would you like to go up to Forty-sixth street with me, and drop in on old Dryfoos? Nows your chance. Hes going West tomorrow, and wont be back for a month or so. Theyll all be glad to see you, and youll understand things better when youve seen him and his family. I cant explain." March reflected a moment. Then he said, with a wisdom that surprised him, for he would have liked to yield to the impulse of his curiosity: "Perhaps wed better wait till Mrs. March comes down, and let things take the usual course. The Dryfoos ladies will want to call on her as the last-comer, and if I treated myself en garcon now, and paid the first visit, it might complicate matters." "Well, perhaps youre right," said Fulkerson. "I dont know much about these things, and I dont believe Ma Dryfoos does, either." He was on his legs lighting another cigarette. "I suppose the girls are getting themselves up in etiquette, though. Well, then, lets have a look at the Every Other Week building, and then, if you like your quarters there, you can go round and close for Mrs. Greens flat." Marchs dormant allegiance to his wifes wishes had been roused by his decision in favor of good social usage. "I dont think I shall take the flat," he said. "Well, dont reject it without giving it another look, anyway. Come on!" He helped March on with his light overcoat, and the little stir they made for their departure caught the notice of the old German; he looked up from his beer at them. March was more than ever impressed with something familiar in his face. In compensation for his prudence in regard to the Dryfooses he now indulged an impulse. He stepped across to where the old man sat, with his bald head shining like ivory under the gas-jet, and his fine patriarchal length of bearded mask taking picturesque lights and shadows, and put out his hand to him. "Lindau! Isnt this Mr. Lindau?" The old man lifted himself slowly to his feet with mechanical politeness, and cautiously took Marchs hand. "Yes, my name is Lindau," he said, slowly, while he scanned Marchs face. Then he broke into a long cry. "Ah-h-h-h-h, my dear poy! my gong friendt! my-my--Idt is Passil Marge, not zo? Ah, ha, ha, ha! How gladt I am to zee you! Why, I am gladt! And you rememberdt me? You remember Schiller, and Goethe, and Uhland? And Indianapolis? You still lif in Indianapolis? It sheers my hardt to zee you. But you are lidtle oldt, too? Tventy-five years makes a difference. Ah, I am gladt! Dell me, idt is Passil Marge, not zo?" He looked anxiously into Marchs face, with a gentle smile of mixed hope and doubt, and March said: "As sure as its Berthold Lindau, and I guess its you. And you remember the old times? You were as much of a boy as I was, Lindau. Are you living in New York? Do you recollect how you tried to teach me to fence? I dont know how to this day, Lindau. How good you were, and how patient! Do you remember how we used to sit up in the little parlor back of your printing-office, and read Die Rauber and Die Theilung der Erde and Die Glocke? And Mrs. Lindau? Is she with--" "Deadt--deadt long ago. Right after I got home from the war--tventy years ago. But tell me, you are married? Children? Yes! Goodt! And how oldt are you now?" "It makes me seventeen to see you, Lindau, but Ive got a son nearly as old." "Ah, ha, ha! Goodt! And where do you lif?" "Well, Im just coming to live in New York," March said, looking over at Fulkerson, who had been watching his interview with the perfunctory smile of sympathy that people put on at the meeting of old friends. "I want to introduce you to my friend Mr. Fulkerson. He and I are going into a literary enterprise here." "Ah! zo?" said the old man, with polite interest. He took Fulkersons proffered hand, and they all stood talking a few moments together. Then Fulkerson said, with another look at his watch, "Well, March, were keeping Mr. Lindau from his dinner." "Dinner!" cried the old man. "Idts better than breadt and meadt to see Mr. Marge!" "I must be going, anyway," said March. "But I must see you again

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