"I have told her parents that I propose to marry Miss
Goodchild--peacefully. Get that straight, please. Peacefully! I am a
law-abiding citizen. She is very beautiful. But I am willing to wait--a
few weeks."

"Yes. But the sandwiches," began a reporter who entertained hopes of
becoming a Public Utility Corporation's publicity man.

H. R. stopped him with an impressive frown. He cleared his throat.

The reporters felt it coming.

"What I have done--" he began.

"Yes! Yes!"

"--is merely the employment for the first time in history of
_psychological sabotage_!"

The reporters, now having the head-line, rushed off. All except one, who
whispered to H. R.'s counsel:

"What in blazes _is_ sabotage? How do you spell it?"

"Quit your joking," answered Max. "You know very well what it is. Isn't
he a wonder? Psychological sabotage!"

The newspapers gave it space in proportion to the extent of their Wall
Street affiliations. The _Evening Post_, having none, came out with an
editorial on "Psychological Sabotage." It held up H. R. as a product of
the times, made inevitable by T. Roosevelt. The _World_ editorialized on
"The Wall Street Spirit _versus_ Love"; the _Times_ wrote about "The
Ethics of Modern Courtship"; and the _Sun_ about "The Decay of Manners
under the Present Administration and its Mexican Policy." The
_American_'s editorial was "Intelligent Eugenics and Unintelligent
Wealth."

But all of them quoted "Psychological Sabotage." This made the Socialist
papers espouse the cause of H. R.

The _Globe_, however, beat them all. It offered to supply to the young
couple, free of charge, a complete kitchen-set and the services of a
knot-tier. It printed the names and addresses of sixteen clergymen, two
rabbis, three aldermen, and the Mayor of the City of New York.

The Public Sentiment Corps copied two hundred and thirty-eight letters
prepared by the boss, praising and condemning H. R. and Mr. Goodchild.
This compelled the newspapers that received the letters to run Grace's
portrait daily--a new photograph each time.

As for Grace herself, crowds followed her. She could not go into a
restaurant without making all heads turn in her direction. People even
stopped dancing when they saw her. And six of New York's bluest-blooded
heiresses became her inseparable companions. They also had their
pictures printed.

Grace hated all this notoriety. She said so, at times. But her friends
soothed her and developed the h