1.

　　It is safest for the historian, if he values accuracy, to wait till athing has happened before writing about it. Otherwise he may commithimself to statements which are not borne out by the actual facts.

　　Mrs Peagrim, recording in advance the success of her party at theGotham Theatre, had done this. It is true that she was a "radiant andvivacious hostess," and it is possible, her standard not being veryhigh, that she had "never looked more charming." But, when, she wenton to say that all present were in agreement that they had neverspent a more delightful evening, she deceived the public. UncleChris, for one; Otis Pilkington, for another, and Freddie Rooke, fora third, were so far from spending a delightful evening that theyfound it hard to mask their true emotions and keep a smiling face tothe world.

　　Otis Pilkington, indeed, found it impossible, and, ceasing to try,left early. Just twenty minutes after the proceedings had begun, heseized his coat and hat, shot out into the night, made off blindly upBroadway, and walked twice round Central Park before his feet gaveout and he allowed himself to be taken back to his apartment in ataxi. He tried to tell himself that this was only what he hadexpected, but was able to draw no consolation from the fact. He triedto tell himself that Jill might change her mind, but hope refused tostir. Jill had been very kind and very sweet and very regretful, butit was only too manifest that on the question of becoming Mrs OtisPilkington her mind was made up. She was willing to like him, to be asister to him, to watch his future progress with considerableinterest, but she would not marry him.

　　One feels sorry for Otis Pilkington in his hour of travail. This wasthe fifth or sixth time that this sort of thing had happened to him,and he was getting tired of it. If he could have looked into thefuture--five years almost to a day from that evening--and seenhimself walking blushfully down the aisle of St. Thomas' with RolandTrevis' sister Angela on his arm, his gloom might have beenlightened. More probably, however, it would have been increased. Atthe moment, Roland Trevis' sister Angela was fifteen, frivolous, andfreckled and, except that he rather disliked her and suspectedher--correctly--of laughing at him, amounted to just _nil_ in MrPilkington's life. The idea of linking his lot with hers would haveappalled him, enthusiastically though he was in favor of it fiveyears later.

　　However, Mr Pilkington was unable to look into the future, so hisreflections on this night of sorrow were not diverted from Jill. Hethought sadly of Jill till two-thirty, when he fell asleep in hischair and dreamed of her. At seven o'clock his Japanese valet, whohad been given the night off, returned home, found him, and gave himbreakfast. After which, Mr Pilkington went to bed, played three gamesof solitaire, and slept till dinner-time, when he awoke to take upthe burden of life again. He still brooded on the tragedy which hadshattered him. Indeed, it was only two weeks later, when at a dancehe was introduced to a red-haired girl from Detroit, that he reallygot over it.