Then trouble for two began. As Williams ended, I looked at him with indignation. "As far as I can see," I said, "you are acting as attorney for the defense. That's a fine story to tell a father of two attractive daughters. You needn't repeat it to them." "But it happened, old man——" "Don't call me 'old man,' either. I'll explain to you why." And I did, peevishly. After that I saw less of Williams, from choice. He has a literary way with him in telling a story—and I didn't wish Alida and Dulcima to sympathize with young Harroll and that little ninny, Catharine Delancy. So I kept clear of Williams until we arrived in Paris. [Pg 42] [Pg 42] CHAPTER IV WHEREIN A MODEST MAN IS BULLIED AND A LITERARY MAN PRACTICES STYLE "What was your first impression of Paris, Mr. Van Twiller?" inquired the young man from East Boston, as I was lighting my cigar in the corridor of the Hôtel des Michetons after breakfast. "The first thing I noticed," said I, "was the entire United States walking down the Boulevard des Italiens." "And your second impression, sir?" he asked somewhat uncertainly. "The entire United States walking back again." He lighted a cigarette and tried to appear cheerful. He knew I possessed two daughters. A man in possession of such knowledge will endure much. Presently the stout young man from Chicago came[Pg 43] up to request a light for his cigar. "See Paris and die, eh?" he observed with odious affability. [Pg 43] "I doubt that the city can be as unhealthy as that," I said coldly. Defeated, he joined forces with the young man from East Boston, and they retired to the terrace to sit and hate me. My daughter Alida, my daughter Dulcima, and I spent our first day in Paris "ong voitoor" as the denizen of East Boston informed me later.
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