" George said. "The situation exists. I'm glad you
recognize it. You'll understand it's a subject I can't let you joke
about."

"All right," Lambert said, "but I wonder why you're always asking for
trouble."

VIII

Betty had plenty of colour to-night. As she passed George, her head bent
against the confetti, he managed to touch her hand, felt a quick
responsive pressure, heard her say:

"Good-bye, George."

The whispered farewell was like a curtain, too heavy ever to be lifted
again, abruptly let down between two fond people.

IX

Unexpectedly the companionships of the little house in Dickinson Street
failed to lighten George's discontented humour. Mrs. Bailly's question
lingered in his mind, coupling itself there with her disappointment that
he, instead of Lambert, hadn't married Betty; and, when she retired, the
tutor went back to his unwelcome demands of the day before. Hadn't
George made anything of his great experience? Was it possible it had
left him quite unchanged? What were his immediate plans, anyway?

"You may as well understand, sir," George broke in, impatiently, "that I
am going to stay right in Wall Street and make as much money and get as
much power as I can."

"Why? In the name of heaven, why?" Bailly asked, irritably. "You are
already a very rich man. You've dug for treasure and found it, but can
you tell me you've kept your hands clean? Money is merely a
conception--a false one. Capitalism will pass from the world."

George grunted.

"With the last two surviving human beings."

"Mockery won't keep you blind always," Bailly said, "to the strivings of
men in the mines and the factories----"

"And in the Senate and the House," George jeered, "and in Russia and
Germany, and in little, ambitious corners. If you're against the League
of Nations it's because, like all those people, you're willing Rome
should burn as long as personal causes can be fostered and selfish
schemes forwarded. No agitator, naturally, wants the suffering world
given a sedative----"

Bailly smiled.

"Even if you're wrong-headed, I'm glad to hear you talk that way. At
last you're thinking of humanity."

"I'm thinking of myself," George snapped.

Bailly shook his head.

"I believe you're talking from your heart."

"I'm talking from a smashed leg," George cried, "and I'm sleepy and
tired and cross, and I guess I'd better go to bed."

"It all runs back to the beginning," Bailly said in a discouraged voice.