on Bailly's narrow
shoulders. He looked at the young eyes in a wrinkled face.

"The thing that hurts me most," he muttered, "is that I haven't paid you
back."

"Perhaps not altogether," Bailly answered, gravely, "but someday you
may."

II

The last thing George did before leaving his dismantled room, which for
so long had sheltered Sylvia's riding crop and her photograph, was to
write this little note to Betty:

DEAR BETTY:

It's simpler to go without saying good-bye.

G. M.

Then he was hustled through the window of the railroad train, out of
Princeton, and definitely into the market-place.

After the sentiment of the final days the crowding, unyielding
buildings, and the men that shared astonishingly their qualities,
offered him a useful restorative. He found he could approximate their
essential hardness again.

The Street at times resembled the campus--it held so many of the men he
had learned to know at Princeton. Lambert was installed in his father's
marble temple. He caught George one day on the sidewalk and hustled him
to a luncheon club.

"I suppose I really ought to put you up here."

"Why?" George asked.

"Because I'm always sure of a good scrap with you. I missed not playing
against you in the Princeton game last fall. Now there's no more
football for either of us. I like scraps."

Blodgett, he chanced to mention later, had spent the previous week-end
at Oakmont. Blodgett had already bragged of that in George's presence.
He forgot the excellent dishes Lambert had had placed before him.

"Have you put Blodgett up here, too?" he asked in his bluntest manner.

Lambert shook his head.

"That's different."

"Not very honestly different," George said, attempting a smile.

"You mean," Lambert laughed, "because I've never asked you to Oakmont?
Under the circumstances----"

"I don't mean that," George said. "I mean Blodgett."

"I can only arrange my own likes and dislikes," Lambert answered, still
amused.

Then who at Oakmont liked the fat financier?

Rogers was in the street, too, selling bonds with his old attitude
toward the serious side of life, striving earnestly only to spy out the
right crowd and to run with it.

"Buy my bonds! Buy my bonds!" he would cry, coming into George's office.
"They're each and every one a bargain. Remember, what's a bargain to-day
may be a dead loss to-morrow, so buy before it's too late."

Goodhue planned to enter a stock exchange fi