hich lay close to his heart.

"I guess I'll chuck the law," he said. "Maybe I'll stay with Judge
Tiffany a year or so longer--until I get admitted anyway. A bar
admission might count if I wanted to go into politics."

"Politics is a pretty poor kind of business," responded Mark Heath.
Old enough in journalism to have recovered somewhat from his first
enchantment with the rush of life, he was only just beginning to
acquire the cynical pose.

"Hell, it's all according to how you play it," said Bertram. "When you
get to be Lincoln, nobody calls it poor business. Do they think any
the worse of my old man because he played politics to be sheriff of
Tulare? If I should go into the game down there, his pull would help
me a lot. But it's me for this." His sweeping gesture took in the
whole city.

He had missed Mark's point. The latter felt within him a little recoil
from that loyalty for his greater, more ready, more popular friend,
which had carried him, a blind slave, through college, and which had
helped him make him settle in San Francisco instead of Tacoma. Through
his four years at the University, Mark had shared his crusts with
Bertram Chester, yelled for him from the bleachers, played his fag at
class elections. Now Mark was out in the world, practising the
profession of lost illusions; and a new vision had been growing within
him for many days. He turned a grave face toward his chum, and his
lips opened on the impulse of a criticism. But he thought better of
it. His mouth closed without sound.

"The real chances for a lawyer, though, are in business," Bertram
went on. "Judge Tiffany never grabbed half his chances. Attwood in the
office, says so."

"He surely didn't keep out of politics, that Judge," said Mark,
remembering the turns of fate which had almost--and ever not
quite--made the old Judge a congressman, a mayor, and a Justice of the
California State Supreme Court.

"Oh, he had no call to be in politics. He hasn't the sand. Attwood
says so. And he stuck at his desk and let his business chances go by.
Myself, I'm keeping my lamps open. Just because the Judge doesn't
watch his chances, that office is a great place to pick things up.
Look at those tidewater cases of ours over in Richmond. I know, from
the inside, that we're going to lose our case, and lots will go
whooping up. I've written to Bob for a thousand dollars to invest.
I'll double that in a year and have my first thousand ahead. Say, why
don't y