to feel that he or she is lifted clear of and high above the
human condition. Josephine had her consolation. For Norman the only
consolation was escape from a marriage which had become so irksome in
anticipation that he did not dare think what it would be in the reality.
Over against this consolation was set a long list of disasters. He found
himself immediately shunned by all his friends. Their professed reason
was that he had acted shabbily in the breaking of the engagement; for,
while it was assumed that Josephine must have done the actual breaking,
it was also assumed that he must have given her provocation and to
spare. This virtuous indignation was in large part mere pretext, as
virtuous indignation in frail mortals toward frail mortals is apt to be.
The real reason for shying off from Norman was his atmosphere of
impending downfall. And certainly that atmosphere had eaten away and
dissipated all his former charm. He looked dull and boresome--and he
was.

But the chief disaster was material. As has been said, old Burroughs, in
his own person and in the enterprises he controlled, gave Norman's firm
about half its income. The day Josephine sailed, Lockyer, senior partner
of the firm, got an intimation that unless Norman left, Burroughs would
take his law business elsewhere, and would "advise" others of their
clients to follow his example. Lockyer no sooner heard than he began to
bestir himself. He called into consultation the learned Benchley and the
astute Sanders and the soft and sly Lockyer junior. There could be no
question that Norman must be got rid of. The only point was, who should
inform the lion that he had been deposed?

After several hours of anxious discussion, Lockyer, his inward
perturbations hid beneath that mask of smug and statesmanlike
respectability, entered the lion's den--a sick lion, sick unto death
probably, but not a dead lion. "When you're ready to go uptown,
Frederick," said he in his gentlest, most patriarchal manner, "let me
know. I want to have a little talk with you."

Norman, heavy eyed and listless, looked at the handsome old fraud. As he
looked something of the piercing quality and something of the humorous
came back into his eyes. "Sit down and say it now," said he.

"I'd prefer to talk where we can be quiet."

Norman rang his bell and when an office boy appeared, said "No one is to
disturb me until I ring again." Then as the boy withdrew he said to
Lockyer: "Now, sir, what is