THE STORY OF AN ENTOMOLOGIST 



been carried out, might have proved most disastrous to the 

 allied forces. 



Quoted from my diary of February 2j, igi8. 



It is a bright, almost spring-hke day, with the air rather sharp. 

 I felt under the v^^eather all the morning, a reflex, perhaps, of 

 my last week's trip to Boston and New York — perhaps a touch 

 of spring fever. At any rate, I was rather dizzy and heavy- 

 headed. I left my desk at a quarter after twelve, walked aim- 

 lessly down Twelfth Street, stopped in at the Greek's for no 

 especial reason and had my shoes blacked, walked across the 

 street and bought a noon Times, stopped in at a barber shop 

 and got shaved without especially needing it, and walked on 

 up to G Street. The restaurants did not look inviting, so I 

 went on over to the Cosmos Club, in spite of the fact that I 

 knew the dining-room would be crowded at one o'clock. 



The Club is too far away from the office for regular luncheon 

 purposes, and I rarely go there unless some one takes me up 

 in a car from the office. Note that I had not intended to go 

 to-day. Note also that I, without necessity and without aim, had 

 had my shoes blacked and my cheeks shaved. 



I found a seat at one of the long tables, and presently Mr. 

 Herbert Quick, a member of the Federal Farm Board, a writer 

 of several novels and other books, and a well known economist 

 along agricultural lines, sat next to me. As it happened, I had 

 been puzzling my head about the conditions of the farm loan 

 banks, having a considerable sum of money (for me) invested 

 in their bonds. Therefore, Mr. Quick was exactly the man I 

 wanted to see. He set my mind at rest, and we finished luncheon 

 pleasantly. 



As I got up to leave, I saw at the adjoining table Major John 



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