That was the place
selected by Arletta for our meeting ground. It was an out-of-the-way,
quiet and romantic spot where we spent many pleasant afternoons and
evenings enjoying each other's company. Whenever Arletta wanted to see
me she sent a note which never failed to bring me there. In fact, such a
feeling of enchantment did the place hold for me, that many times I
wandered out there and sat alone for hours, musing.
But notwithstanding that our many meetings had the effect of
strengthening our mutual admiration and love for each other, and that I
was beginning to fairly idolize this beautiful young woman, still
certain things came to pass that I could not understand, and which
caused me to feel that Arletta's actions were very mysterious, and that
there was something about her life she was trying to withhold from me.
In the first place she would never meet me anywhere else except in that
obscure nook in the park, and in departing would not permit me to escort
her beyond the Seventy-eighth street entrance, where she would abruptly
bid me a hasty adieu, with instructions that I must take another route.
That, in itself, appeared to be a strange proceeding, but one evening as
I entered a fashionable Fifth avenue restaurant on one of my tours of
inspection of plutocratic conditions, I was amazed to see her seated at
one of the tables, drinking wine with a male companion. Her face was
flushed from the effects of the beverage, and she was acting a trifle
hilarious, and displaying traits of frivolity such as I had never
observed in her before.
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