THE LADY OR THE SALMON? 119 



struggled with him, but he slipped from my arms. 

 In that moment I knew more than the anguish of 

 Orpheus. Orpheus ! Had I, too, lost my Eury- 

 dice ? I rushed from the stream, up the steep 

 bank, along to my rooms. I passed the church 

 door. Olive, pale as her orange-blossoms, was 

 issuing from the porch. The clock pointed to 

 10.45. I was ruined, I knew it, and I laughed. I 

 laughed like a lost spirit. She swept past me, and, 

 amidst the amazement of the gentle and simple, I 

 sped wildl}' away. Ask me no more. The rest is 

 silence.' 



Thus ends my hapless friend's narrative. I 

 leave it to the judgment of women and of men. 

 Ladies, would you have acted as Olive Dunne 

 acted ? Would pride, or pardon, or mirth have 

 ridden sparkling in your eyes ? Men, my brethren, 

 would ye have deserted the salmon for the lady, 

 or the lady for the salmon ? I know what I would 

 have done had I been fair Olive Dunne. What 

 I would have done had I been Houghton Grannom 

 I may not venture to divulge. For this narrative, 



