July Saturday noon
I had regarded my old college chum not only as the best mentally harnessed man I had ever met , but I knew him as the soul of honour , that honour of the old story-books , and I could not credit his being tempted to jeopardise unfairly the rights or property of another . But it was habit with me to let Bob have his way , and I did not press him to come into our firm as a full partner . Five years later , during which time affairs , business and social , had been slipping along as well as either Bob or I could have asked , I was preparing for another sit-down to show my chum that the time had now come for him to help me in earnest , when a queer thing happened -- one of those unaccountable incidents that God sometimes sees fit to drop across the life-paths of His children , paths heretofore as straight and far-ahead-visible as highways along which one has never to look twice to see where he is travelling ; one of those events that , looked at retrospectively , are beyond all human understanding . It was a beautiful July Saturday noon and Bob and I had just `` packed up '' for the day preparatory to joining Mrs. Randolph on my yacht for a run down to our place at Newport . As we stepped out of his office one of the clerks announced that a lady had come in and had particularly asked to see Mr. Brownley . `` Who the deuce can she be , coming in at this time on Saturday , just when all alive men are in a rush to shake the heat and dirt of business for food and the good air of all outdoors ? '' growled Bob .