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.
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