Chapter 19

"LA TOSCA"

The winter season was at its height now. For weeks there had been no rain, and the Pacific side of the Isthmus was growing sere and yellow beneath the ceaseless glare of the sun. The musty dampness of the rainy season had disappeared, the steady trade-winds breathed a dreamy languor, and the days fled past in one long, unending procession of brilliant sameness. Every ship from the North came laden with tourists, and the social life of the city grew brilliant and gay. There were receptions, dinners, dances; the plazas echoed to the strains of music almost nightly. Now that Nature smiled, the work upon the Canal went forward with ever- growing eagerness. Records were broken in every department, the railroad groaned beneath its burden, the giant human machine was strained to its fullest efficiency.

Young Anthony mastered the details of his work very rapidly, for railroading had been bred into him. He needed little help from Runnels, and soon began to feel a conscious grasp of affairs as surprising to himself as to his chief. Being intensely interested in his work, he avoided all social entanglements, despite repeated invitations from Mrs. Cortlandt. But, when the grand-opera season began, he made an exception, and joined her box-party on the opening night.

It seemed quite like old times to don an evening suit; the stiff, white linen awakened a pang of regret. The time was not far distant when he had felt never so much at home as in these togs; but now they were hot and uncomfortable--and how they accentuated his coat of tan!

There was a somewhat formal dinner in the Cortlandts' new home, at which there were a dozen guests; so Kirk had no opportunity of speaking with his hostess until they had reached the theatre, where he found himself seated immediately behind her.

"I've scarcely seen you lately," she said, at the first opportunity. "You're a very neglectful young man."

"I knew you were getting settled in your house, and we've been tremendously busy at the office."

"I began to think you were avoiding us."

"You must know better than that."

She regarded him shrewdly over her shoulder. "You're not still thinking of--that night at Taboga? You haven't seemed the same since."

He blushed, and nodded frankly. "I can't help thinking about it. You were mighty nice to overlook a break like that, but--" Unconsciously his eyes shifted to Cortlandt, who was conversing politely with a giggly old lady from Gatun.

She tapped his cheek lightly with her fan. "Just to show you how forgiving I am, I am going to ask you to go riding with me. The late afternoons are lovely now, and I've found a good horse for you. I suppose you ride?"

"I love it."

"Wednesday, at five, then." She turned to another guest, and