the gods.
One merely accepts them, thankfully--"

"I was a fool--"

"Say rather, merely an animated biped, an instinct on legs. Is _that_
a thing to be proud of--for a man who knows what real ideals are?"

"Don't--"

"Did you discuss Shakespeare and the musical glasses with 'Kid'
Spatola?"

"Please!"

"Or the incorporeal nature of the soul with Battling Sagorski?"

"Una!" Her irony was biting him like acid.

"Or did Sagorski make you an accessory before the fact of his next
housebreaking expedition?"

"Una, that isn't fair. Sagorski is--"

"He's a second-story man, Jerry, with a beautiful record. Shall I give
it to you?"

"Er--no, thanks," gasped Jerry breathlessly. "I can't believe--"

"You missed nothing at the house?"

She waited for his reply.

"I'm not sure _who_ took them--"

"But you _did_ miss--?"

"Yes, spoons, forks and things--" He broke off exasperated. "Oh, Una,
it's cruel of you?"

"No, kind. Sagorski is a smudgy page, Jerry. I happened to have seen
it in the records. And there's a woman at the Mission--"

It was Una's turn to pause in sudden solemnity.

"A woman. His wife?" asked Jerry.

"No, just a woman."

"He had treated her badly?"

"Her soul," she replied slowly, "is dead. Her body doesn't matter."

She must have been thankful for the silence that followed? for the
look of bewilderment, piteous, I think, it must now have seemed to
Una, was in his face again. And before he could question further she
had turned the topic.

A little later, I think, personalities began again.

"You're always helping people, Una, always helping," he said slowly.
"Does it make you happy?"

"Yes, if I _can_ help."

"And you want to help me? I wonder if I'm worth it."

"Yes, I wouldn't bother if you weren't."

"And how do you know I'm worth it?"

"It's my business to know," she said.

Jerry sent the car spinning joyously down a fine stretch of straight
empty road. And then when he had reduced the car to a slower pace,

"You know, Una," he laughed, "you do take charge of a fellow, don't
you?"

"You need 'mothering'," she smiled.

"Or sistering. I wish I had a sister like you. Fellows ought to have
sisters, anyway. People ought to be born in pairs, male and female."

She laughed and then with sudden seriousness:

"But people ought to stand on their feet. All the 'sistering' in the
world won't help a lame man to walk."

"I'm not so awfully lame, am I?"

"No. Just limpy. But