“Do you believe in dreams?” Constance Dunlap looked searchingly at her interrogator, as if her face or manner betrayed some new side of her character. Mrs. deForest Caswell was an attractive woman verging on forty, a chance acquaintance at a shoppers’ tea room downtown who had proved to be an uptown neighbor. “I have had […]

“They have the most select clientele in the city here.” Constance Dunlap was sitting in the white steamy room of Charmant’s Beauty Shop. Her informant, reclining dreamily in a luxurious wicker chair, bathed in the perspiring vapor, had evidently taken a fancy to her. “And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well,” she […]

“We’ll land here, Mrs. Dunlap.” Ramon Santos, terror of the Washington State Department and of a half dozen consulates in New York, stuck a pin in a map of Central America spread out on a table before Constance. “Insurrectos will meet us,” he pursued, then added, “but we must have money, first, my dear Senora, […]

“I suppose you have heard something about the troubles of the Motor Trust? The other directors, you know, are trying to force me out.” Rodman Brainard, president of the big Motor Corporation, searched the magnetic depths of the big brown eyes of the woman beside his desk. Talking to Constance Dunlap was not like talking […]

It was what, in college, we used to call “good football weather”–a crisp, autumn afternoon that sent the blood tingling through brain and muscle. Kennedy and I were enjoying a stroll on the drive, dividing our attention between the glowing red sunset across the Hudson and the string of homeward-bound automobiles on the broad parkway. […]

“They’re late this afternoon.” “Yes. I think they might be on time. I wish they had made the appointment in a quieter place.” “What do you care, Anita? Probably somebody else is doing the same thing somewhere else. What’s sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose.” “I know he has treated me like […]

“I have a terrible headache,” remarked Constance Dunlap to her friend, Adele Gordon, the petite cabaret singer and dancer of the Mayfair, who had dropped in to see her one afternoon. “You poor, dear creature,” soothed Adele. “Why don’t you go to see Dr. Price? He has cured me. He’s splendid–splendid.” Constance hesitated. Dr. Moreland […]

“Take care of me–please–please!” A slip of a girl, smartly attired in a fur-trimmed dress and a chic little feather-tipped hat, hurried up to Constance Dunlap late one afternoon as she turned the corner below her apartment. “It isn’t faintness or illness exactly–but–it’s all so hazy,” stammered the girl breathlessly. “And I’ve forgotten who I […]

“Madam, would you mind going with me for a few moments to the office on the third floor?” Constance Dunlap had been out on a shopping excursion. She had stopped at the jewelry counter of Stacy’s to have a ring repaired and had gone on to the leather goods department to purchase something else. The […]

Kennedy and I had risen early, for we were hustling to get off for a week-end at Atlantic City. Kennedy was tugging at the straps of his grip and remonstrating with it under his breath, when the door opened and a messenger-boy stuck his head in. “Does Mr. Kennedy live here?” he asked. Craig impatiently […]

Kennedy and I had been dining rather late one evening at Luigi’s, a little Italian restaurant on the lower West Side. We had known the place well in our student days, and had made a point of visiting it once a month since, in order to keep in practice in the fine art of gracefully […]

“There’s something queer about these aeroplane accidents at Belmore Park,” mused Kennedy, one evening, as his eye caught a big headline in the last edition of the Star, which I had brought uptown with me. “Queer?” I echoed. “Unfortunate, terrible, but hardly queer. Why, it is a common saying among the aeronauts that if they […]

It was, I recall, at that period of the late unpleasantness in the little Central American republic of Vespuccia, when things looked darkest for American investors, that I hurried home one evening to Kennedy, bursting with news. By way of explanation, I may add that during the rubber boom Kennedy had invested in stock of […]

Kennedy was deeply immersed in writing a lecture on the chemical compositions of various bacterial toxins and antitoxins, a thing which was as unfamiliar to me as Kamchatka, but as familiar to Kennedy as Broadway and Forty-second Street. “Really,” he remarked, laying down his fountain-pen and lighting his cigar for the hundredth time, “the more […]

“I’m willing to wager you a box of cigars that you don’t know the most fascinating story in your own paper to-night,” remarked Kennedy, as I came in one evening with the four or five newspapers I was in the habit of reading to see whether they had beaten the Star in getting any news […]

Files of newspapers and innumerable clippings from the press bureaus littered Kennedy’s desk in rank profusion. Kennedy himself was so deeply absorbed that I had merely said good evening as I came in and had started to open my mail. With an impatient sweep of his hand, however, he brushed the whole mass of newspapers […]

“For Heaven’s sake, Gregory, what is the matter?” asked Craig Kennedy as a tall, nervous man stalked into our apartment one evening. “Jameson, shake hands with Dr. Gregory. What’s the matter, Doctor? Surely your X-ray work hasn’t knocked you out like this?” The doctor shook hands with me mechanically. His hand was icy. “The blow […]

“Craig, do you see that fellow over by the desk, talking to the night clerk?” I asked Kennedy as we lounged into the lobby of the new Hotel Vanderveer one evening after reclaiming our hats from the plutocrat who had acquired the checking privilege. We had dined on the roof garden of the Vanderveer apropos […]

It was a rather sultry afternoon in the late summer when people who had calculated by the calendar rather than by the weather were returning to the city from the seashore, the mountains, and abroad. Except for the week-ends, Kennedy and I had been pretty busy, though on this particular day there was a lull […]

“I won’t deny that I had some expectations from the old man myself.” Kennedy’s client was speaking in a low, full chested, vibrating voice, with some emotion, so low that I had entered the room without being aware that any one was there until it was too late to retreat. “As his physician for over […]