Randolph, however, had dealt as a bachelor with a problem which
he himself as a bachelor must soon take up, on however different a scale
and plane. For everything here was rich and handsome; he should not know
how to select such things--still less how to pay for them. He felt dashed;
he felt depressed; once more the wonder of people's "having things." He
sipped his soup in the spirit of humility, and did not quite recover with
the chops.
Randolph made little talk; he was glad merely to have Cope there. He
indulged no slightest reference to the accident; he assumed, willingly
enough, that Cope had done well in a sudden emergency, but did not care to
dwell on his judgment at the beginning. Still, a young man was properly
enough experimental, venturesome...
Cope had recovered himself by the time dessert was reached. He accomplished
an adjustment to his environment, and Randolph was glad to feel his
unaffected response to good food properly cooked and served. "He sha'n't
gipsy _all_ the time," Randolph said to himself. "I shall try to have
him here at least twice a week." Once in a while the evening might be
stormy, and then the gauntlets would be laid on the dresser--perhaps after
an informal smoke in pajamas among the curios ranged round the small den.
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