Nothing left. The tragedy of it is that he's quite happy."

"Then it isn't a tragedy at all."

"Depends on whether you take the Christian or the Buddhist point of
view. He's found his Nirvana in checker problems and collecting
literature about insignia. Write? I don't suppose he'd want to if he
could. 'There but for the grace of God goes'--you or I. _I_ think the
_facilis descensus_ to the gutter is almost preferable."

"So you've shown him to me as a dreadful warning, have you, Tommy?"
mused Banneker aloud.

"Get out of it, Ban; get out of it."

"Why don't you get out of it yourself?"

"Inertia. Or cowardice. And then, I haven't come to the turning-point
yet. When I do reach it, perhaps it'll be too late."

"What do you reckon the turning-point?"

"As long as you feel the excitement of the game," explained this veteran
of thirty, "you're all right. That will keep you going; the sense of
adventure, of change, of being in the thick of things. But there's an
underlying monotony, so they tell me: the monotony of seeing things by
glimpses, of never really completing a job, of being inside important
things, but never of them. That gets into your veins like a clogging
poison. Then you're through. Quit it, Ban, before it's too late."

"No. I'm not going to quit the game. It's my game. I'm going to beat
it."

"Maybe. You've got the brains. But I think you're too stiff in the
backbone. Go-to-hell-if-you-don't-like-the-way-I-do-it may be all right
for a hundred-dollar-a-week job; but it doesn't get you a managing
editorship at fifteen to twenty thousand. Even if it did, you'd give up
the go-to-hell attitude as soon as you landed, for fear it would cost
you your job and be too dear a luxury."

"All right, Mr. Walpole," laughed Banneker. "When I find what my price
is, I'll let you know. Meantime I'll think over your well-meant advice."

If the normal way of advancement were closed to him in The Ledger office
because of his unsound and rebellious attitude on social and labor
questions, there might be better opportunities in other offices,
Banneker reflected.

Before taking any step he decided to talk over the general situation
with that experienced campaigner, Russell Edmonds. Him and his
diminutive pipe he found at Katie's, after most of the diners had left.
The veteran nodded when Banneker told him of his having reached what
appeared to be a _cul-de-sac_.

"It's about time you quit," said Edmonds vigorously.

"