distinctions of color. Only in the west there was a great gold radiance, against which little red clouds floated like bits of raveled silk.
John Gault, as was his Sunday custom, dined with his brother's family. After dinner he left early, before the usual callers appeared—generally young men come to bow the knee at Letitia's shrine.
For a space he walked down the street with a quick, decided step. Then, of a sudden, he stopped, and stood looking at the pavement, uncertain and irresolute. The car which had borne him to the other side of town on the last evening that he had dined with the Mortimer Gaults glided across the avenue some blocks farther down. He heard its bell and saw the long funnel of light from its lantern pierce the darkness before it.
He stood for a moment watching it, then turned in the opposite direction and stopped. As he hesitated, he heard in the distance the bell of the next car. With a smothered ejaculation, he wheeled about and ran for it. He caught the car and swung himself to a front seat.
"Kismet!" he said to himself, as he sank down panting.
