a hydro for
Bagby, Jr., had there been no Ruth. Bagby wrote that he was coming
North, to prepare for the spring's experiments; wouldn't Carl consider
joining him?

Carl was now, between his salary and his investment in the Touricar
Company, making about four thousand dollars a year, and saving nearly
half of it, against the inevitable next change in his life, whatever
that should be. He would probably climb to ten thousand dollars in
five years. The Touricar was promising success. Several had been
ordered at the Automobile Show; the Chicago, Boston, and Philadelphia
agents of the company reported interest. For no particular reason,
apparently, Milwaukee had taken them up first; three Milwaukee people
had ordered cars.... An artist was making posters with beautiful
gipsies and a Touricar and tourists whose countenances showed lively
appreciation of the efforts of the kind Touricar manufacturers to
please and benefit them. But the head salesman of the company laughed
at Carl when he suggested that the Touricar might not only bring them
money, but really take people off to a larger freedom:

"I don't care a hang where they go with the thing as long as they pay
for it. You can't be an idealist and make money. You make the money
and then you can have all the ideals you want to, and give away some
hospitals and libraries."

* * * * *

They walked and talked, Ruth and Carl. They threaded the
Sunday-afternoon throng on upper Broadway, where on every clear Sunday
all the apartment-dwellers (if they have remembered to have their
trousers pressed or their gloves cleaned in preparation) promenade
like stupid black-and-white peacocks past uninteresting
apartment-houses and uninspiring upper Broadway shops, while two
blocks away glorious Riverside Drive, with its panorama of Hudson and
hills and billowing clouds, its trees and secret walks and the
Soldiers and Sailors Monument, is nearly deserted. Together they
scorned the glossy well-to-do merchant in his newly ironed top-hat,
and were thus drawn together. It is written that loving the same cause
makes honest friendship; but hating the same people makes alliances so
delightful that one can sit up late nights, talking.

At the opening of the flying season Carl took her to the Hempstead
Plains Aviation Field, and, hearing his explanations, she at last
comprehended emotionally that he really was an aviator.

They tramped through Staten Island; th