Зима тревоги нашей

           Themanagerwasinhiscountinghouse,checkingsomekindoflist.Ihadnoticedhimwhenweregistered,amanofwispedhairandlittleneedtoshave.Hewasafurtiveandafurthymanatonce,andhehadsohopedfromourgaietyouroutingwasclandestinethatInearlysignedhisbook"JohnSmithandwife"togivehimpleasure.Hesniffedforsin.Indeedheseemedtoseewithhislongtendernoseasamoledoes.

           "Goodmorning,"Isaid.

           Heleveledhisnoseatme."Sleptwell?"

           "Perfectly.IwonderifIcancarryatrayofbreakfasttomywife."

           "Weonlyserveinthediningroom,seven-thirtytonine-thirty."

           "ButifIcarryitmyself—"

           "It’sagainsttherules."

           "Couldn’twebreakthemthisonce?Youknowhowitis."Ithrewthatinbecausethat’showhehopeditwas.

           Hispleasurewasrewardenough.Hiseyesgrewmoistandhisnosetrembled."Feelingalittleshy,isshe?"

           "Well,youknowhowitis."

           "Idon’tknowwhatthecookwillsay."

           "Askhimandtellhimadollarstandstiptoeonthemistymountaintop."

           ThecookwasaGreekwhofoundadollarattractive.IntimeItotedagiantnapkin-coveredtrayalongthegraveledpathandsetitonarusticbenchwhileIpickedabouquetofmicroscopicfieldflowerstogracetheroyalbreakfastofmydear.

           Perhapsshewasawake,butsheopenedhereyesanywayandsaid,"Ismellcoffee.Oh!Oh!Whatanicehusband—and—andflowers"—allthelittlesoundsthatneverlosetheirfragrance.