to her just so much wilfulness of opinion.

So Martin contaminated Professor Caldwell with his own earnestness,
challenging him to speak his mind. As Ruth paused beside them she heard
Martin saying:-

"You surely don't pronounce such heresies in the University of
California?"

Professor Caldwell shrugged his shoulders. "The honest taxpayer and the
politician, you know. Sacramento gives us our appropriations and
therefore we kowtow to Sacramento, and to the Board of Regents, and to
the party press, or to the press of both parties."

"Yes, that's clear; but how about you?" Martin urged. "You must be a
fish out of the water."

"Few like me, I imagine, in the university pond. Sometimes I am fairly
sure I am out of water, and that I should belong in Paris, in Grub
Street, in a hermit's cave, or in some sadly wild Bohemian crowd,
drinking claret,--dago-red they call it in San Francisco,--dining in
cheap restaurants in the Latin Quarter, and expressing vociferously
radical views upon all creation. Really, I am frequently almost sure
that I was cut out to be a radical. But then, there are so many
questions on which I am not sure. I grow timid when I am face to face
with my human frailty, which ever prevents me from grasping all the
factors in any problem--human, vital problems, you know."

And as he talked on, Martin became aware that to his own lips had come
the "Song of the Trade Wind":-

"I am strongest at noon,
But under the moon
I stiffen the bunt of the sail."

He was almost humming the words, and it dawned upon him that the other
reminded him of the trade wind, of the Northeast Trade, steady, and cool,
and strong. He was equable, he was to be relied upon, and withal there
was a certain bafflement about him. Martin had the feeling that he never
spoke his full mind, just as he had often had the feeling that the trades
never blew their strongest but always held reserves of strength that were
never used. Martin's trick of visioning was active as ever. His brain
was a most accessible storehouse of remembered fact and fancy, and its
contents seemed ever ordered and spread for his inspection. Whatever
occurred in the instant present, Martin's mind immediately presented
associated antithesis or similitude which ordinarily expressed themselves
to him in vision. It was sheerly automatic, and his visioning was an
unfailing accompaniment to the living present. Just as Ruth's face, in a
momentary j