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going to pieces。 Moreover didn't she mention that Mr。 Moreen and
the others were enjoying themselves at the opera with Mr。 Granger；
and wasn't THAT also precisely where one would look for them on the
eve of a smash？ Pemberton gathered that Mr。 Granger was a rich
vacant American … a big bill with a flourishy heading and no items；
so that one of Paula's 〃ideas〃 was probably that this time she
hadn't missed fire … by which straight shot indeed she would have
shattered the general cohesion。 And if the cohesion was to crumble
what would become of poor Pemberton？ He felt quite enough bound up
with them to figure to his alarm as a dislodged block in the
edifice。
It was Morgan who eventually asked if no supper had been ordered
for him； sitting with him below； later； at the dim delayed meal； in
the presence of a great deal of corded green plush； a plate of
ornamental biscuit and an aloofness marked on the part of the
waiter。 Mrs。 Moreen had explained that they had been obliged to
secure a room for the visitor out of the house； and Morgan's
consolation … he offered it while Pemberton reflected on the
nastiness of lukewarm sauces … proved to be； largely； that his
circumstance would facilitate their escape。 He talked of their
escape … recurring to it often afterwards … as if they were making
up a 〃boy's book〃 together。 But he likewise expressed his sense
that there was something in the air； that the Moreens couldn't keep
it up much longer。 In point of fact； as Pemberton was to see； they
kept it up for five or six months。 All the while； however；
Morgan's contention was designed to cheer him。 Mr。 Moreen and
Ulick； whom he had met the day after his return； accepted that
return like perfect men of the world。 If Paula and Amy treated it
even with less formality an allowance was to be made for them；
inasmuch as Mr。 Granger hadn't come to the opera after all。 He had
only placed his box at their service； with a bouquet for each of
the party； there was even one apiece； embittering the thought of
his profusion； for Mr。 Moreen and Ulick。 〃They're all like that；〃
was Morgan's comment； 〃at the very last； just when we think we've
landed them they're back in the deep sea！〃
Morgan's comments in these days were more and more free； they even
included a large recognition of the extraordinary tenderness with
which he had been treated while Pemberton was away。 Oh yes； they
couldn't do enough to be nice to him； to show him they had him on
their mind and make up for his loss。 That was just what made the
whole thing so sad and caused him to rejoice after all in
Pemberton's return … he had to keep thinking of their affection
less； had less sense of obligation。 Pemberton laughed out at this
last reason； and Morgan blushed and said： 〃Well； dash it； you know
what I mean。〃 Pemberton knew perfectly what he meant； but there
were a good many things that … dash it too！ … it didn't make any
clearer。 This episode of his second sojourn in Paris stretched
itself out wearily； with their resumed readings and wanderings and
maunderings； their potterings on the quays； their hauntings of the
museums； their occasional lingerings in the Palais Royal when the
first sharp weather came on and there was a comfort in warm
emanations； before Chevet's wonderful succulent window。 Morgan
wanted to hear all about the opulent youth … he took an immense
interest in him。 Some of the details of his opulence … Pemberton
could spare him none of them … evidently fed the boy's appreciation
of all his friend had given up to come back to him； but in addition
to the greater reciprocity established by that heroism he had
always his little brooding theory； in which there was a frivolous
gaiety too； that their long probation was drawing to a close。
Morgan's conviction that the Moreens couldn't go on much longer
kept pace with the unexpended impetus with which； from month to
month； they did go on。 Three weeks after Pemberton had rejoined
them they went on to another hotel； a dingier one than the first；
but Morgan rejoiced that his tutor had at least still not
sacrificed the advantage of a room outside。 He clung to the
romantic utility of this when the day； or rather the night； should
arrive for their escape。
For the first time； in this complicated connexion； our friend felt
his collar gall him。 It was； as he had said to Mrs。 Moreen in
Venice； trop fort … everything was trop fort。 He could neither
really throw off his blighting burden nor find in it the benefit of
a pacified conscience or of a rewarded affection。 He had spent all
the money accruing to him in England； and he saw his youth going
and that he was getting nothing back for it。 It was all very well
of Morgan to count it for reparation that he should now settle on
him permanently … there was an irritating flaw in such a view。 He
saw what the boy had in his mind； the conception that as his friend
had had the generosity to come back he must show his gratitude by
giving him his life。 But the poor friend didn't desire the gift …
what could he do with Morgan's dreadful little life？ Of course at
the same time that Pemberton was irritated he remembered the
reason； which was very honourable to Morgan and which dwelt simply
in his making one so forget that he was no more than a patched
urchin。 If one dealt with him on a different basis one's
misadventures were one's own fault。 So Pemberton waited in a queer
confusion of yearning and alarm for the catastrophe which was held
to hang over the house of Moreen； of which he certainly at moments
felt the symptoms brush his cheek and as to which he wondered much
in what form it would find its liveliest effect。
Perhaps it would take the form of sudden dispersal … a frightened
sauve qui peut； a scuttling into selfish corners。 Certainly they
were less elastic than of yore； they were evidently looking for
something they didn't find。 The Dorringtons hadn't re…appeared；
the princes had scattered； wasn't that the beginning of the end？
Mrs。 Moreen had lost her reckoning of the famous 〃days〃； her social
calendar was blurred … it had turned its face to the wall。
Pemberton suspected that the great； the cruel discomfiture had been
the unspeakable behaviour of Mr。 Granger； who seemed not to know
what he wanted； or； what was much worse； what they wanted。 He kept
sending flowers； as if to bestrew the path of his retreat； which
was never the path of a return。 Flowers were all very well； but …
Pemberton could complete the proposition。 It was now positively
conspicuous that in the long run the Moreens were a social failure；
so that the young man was almost grateful the run had not been
short。 Mr。 Moreen indeed was still occasionally able to get away
on business and； what was more surprising； was likewise able to get
back。 Ulick had no club but you couldn't have discovered it from
his appearance； which was as much as ever that of a person looking
at life from the window of such an institution； therefore Pemberton
was doubly surprised at an answer he once heard him make his mother
in the desperate tone of a man familiar with the worst privations。
Her question Pemberton had not quite caught； it appeared to be an
appeal for a suggestion as to whom they might get to take Amy。
〃Let the Devil take her！〃 Ulick snapped； so that Pemberton could
see that they had not only lost their amiability but had ceased to
believe in themselves。 He could also see that if Mrs。 Moreen was
trying to get people to take her children she might be regarded as
closing the hatches for the storm。 But Morgan would be the last
she would part with。
One winter afternoon … it was a Sunday … he and the boy walked far
together in the Bois de Boulogne。 The evening was so splendid； the
cold lemon…coloured sunset so clear； the stream of carriages and
pedestrians so amusing and the fascination of Paris so great； that
they stayed out later than usual and becam