I will talk it over with
her, and send you the _nom de plume_ by mail.
"Very well," said Leopold, rising. "And now let us go and have some
breakfast."
"My dear fellow, you must excuse me. I have not seen my parents this
trip, and I ought to go up to the house and take breakfast with the
family."
"All right," said Leopold, "rush that pseudonym right along, so I can
send the manuscripts to Cooper. And don't forget to drop in and see me
next time you come to the city."
On his way to Beacon Street Quincy suddenly stopped and regarded a sign
that read, Paul Culver, M.D., physician and surgeon. He knew Culver, but
hadn't seen him for eight years. They were in the Latin School together
under _pater_ Gardner. He rang the bell and was shown into Dr. Culver's
office, and in a few minutes his old schoolmate entered. Paul Culver was
a tall, broad-chested, heavily-built young man, with frank blue eyes,
and hair of the color that is sometimes irreverently called, or rather
the wearers of it are called, towheads.
They had a pleasant talk over old school days and college experiences,
which were not identical, for Paul had graduated from Yale College at
his father's desire, instead of from Harvard.
Pages:
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303