we're on the
road. And in the editorials, I'm making people stir their minds about
real things who never before developed a thought beyond the everyday,
mechanical processes of living."

"To what end?" she asked doubtfully.

"Does it matter? Isn't the thinking, in itself, end enough?"

"Brutish thinking if it's represented in your screaming headlines."

"Predigested news. I want to preserve all their brain-power for my
editorial page. And, oh, how easy I make it for them! Thoughts of one
syllable."

"And you use your power over their minds to incite them to discontent."

"Certainly."

"But that's dreadful, Ban! To stir up bitterness and rancor among
people."

"Don't you be misled by cant, Miss Camilla," adjured Banneker. "The
contented who have everything to make them content have put a stigma on
discontent. They'd have us think it a crime. It isn't. It's a virtue."

"Ban! A virtue?"

"Well; isn't it? Call it by the other name, ambition. What then?"

Miss Van Arsdale pondered with troubled eyes. "I see what you mean," she
confessed. "But the discontent that arises within one's self is one
thing; the 'divine discontent.' It's quite another to foment it for your
own purposes in the souls of others."

"That depends upon the purpose. If the purpose is to help the others,
through making their discontent effective to something better, isn't it
justified?"

"But isn't there always the danger of making a profession of
discontent?"

"That's a shrewd hit," confessed Banneker. "I've suspected that
Marrineal means to capitalize it eventually, though I don't know just
how. He's a secret sort of animal, Marrineal."

"But he gives you a free hand?" she asked.

"He has to," said Banneker simply.

Camilla Van Arsdale sighed. "It's success, Ban. Isn't it?"

"Yes. It's success. In its kind."

"Is it happiness?"

"Yes. Also in its kind."

"The real kind? The best kind?"

"It's satisfaction. I'm doing what I want to do."

She sighed. "I'd hoped for something more."

He shook his head. "One can't have everything."

"Why not?" she demanded almost fiercely. "You ought to have. You're made
for it." After a pause she added: "Then it isn't Betty Raleigh. I'd
hoped it was. I've been watching her. There's character there, Ban, as
well as charm."

"She has other interests. No; it isn't Betty."

"Ban, there are times when I could hate her," broke out Miss Van
Arsdale.

"Who? Betty?"

"You know whom well enoug