e. I
don't think he'll ever make much money, but he'll always be free with
what he has, and mighty good to a girl. He wants me to visit in London
during summer vacation; he lives there. If I go he says he'll see that
I meet a nice crowd. I haven't asked mother yet.

"I guess you won't be coming home for vacation this summer, now you're
out of the bank. It wouldn't be like you to come back a failure. It
seems funny that you shouldn't have got along in banking as well as
Porter: you are just as smart as he is. That fellow surprises me
sometimes, though! I've been at him to quit the bank and go into
something else. He shouldn't be proposing on six hundred dollars a
year, should he? Well, good-bye. Yours sincerely,

"FRANK."

After signing the letter Frankie dropped the pen and rested her chin on
her hands. She gazed into space until the tears rolled down her
cheeks; then she hid her face lest the looking-glass might see her.

"To think," she murmured, "that Evan sees girls like _that_!"

Girl-like, she had said nothing about Hamilton or Hazel Morton in the
letter. She wanted to wound. Perry had helped her make Evan jealous
once before. She was afraid mention of Hamilton would call forth
explanations from Evan, and she didn't want him to explain. Even
though he were innocent, she felt that she must hate him now, for she
was jealous.

While the Mt. Alban garden party was in progress Evan attended one in
New York--the Madison Square Garden party. There were no Chinese
lanterns in evidence (although there were some Chinese), and the
creatures who participated were not particularly young or care-free:
there were the burning lights of Broadway and the Square, and wretched
figures huddling on, beside, and under, the benches.

"And this is New York!" murmured Evan.

The melancholy sight fascinated him; he found it hard to leave Madison
Gardens, although the White Way called to the youth and love of gaiety
within him. He had never before seen so plainly the line of
demarcation between sunlight and shadow. The startling proximity of
riches to poverty, gladness to sadness, shocked him; he had a vague
fear of something, he did not know what. Maybe it was the readjustment
to come.

It is quite evident, from his loitering, that Evan was not worrying
about himself. He had a job, therefore he sat and pitied those who did
not have--and who did not want--work. Realizing at last that it was
folly to pity