noon
My nerves relaxed unconsciously , and Jeanne 's wild applause as one after another of her particular tunes rang out -LRB- _ Parlons-nous de lui , Grandmère , Sous les Tilleuls _ and _ Je sais bien , mon amour _ -RRB- gave me an absurd thrill of musicianly vanity . I slept in my own little room with the prim black walnut bedroom suit , the prize-books in a row on the corner shelf , the worn rug made from the minister 's calf that I shot by mistake , and my father 's sword , with its faded tassel , over my bed . By some odd chance all my dreams that night were of those boyish days , and it was with sincere surprise that I stared on waking at my long moustache , in the toilet mirror -- we were not so universally clean shaven twenty years ago . My steamer sailed at noon from Boston , and to my intense delight there was no one on board that I knew . Unattended and unwept Kitchener and I marched up the gang plank , and I pointed out to him the conveniences and eccentricities of his surroundings with the contented confidence known only to the intimate friend of a good dog . For Kitchener and I were already intimate : the cynical philosophy , the sentimental maundering , the firm resolutions I had poured out in his well-clipped ear had brought us very close together , and had he chosen to betray my confidences he could have made a great fool of me , I can tell you . I can see him now -- good old Kitch !