he fact that
the Powers that be are already looking at him with distrustful eyes,
in spite of his occasional flashes of brilliance. If he could only get
_out_ of it--get into something where his particular kind of mind and
training would be useful--oh well--he grunts and turns back to his
private affairs.

The letter from Easten of Columbiac Magazines--kindly enough--but all
hope of selling the serial rights of his novel gone glimmering because
of it--Easten was the last chance, the last and the best. "If you could
see your way to making short stories out of the incidents I have named,
I should be very much interested--" but even so, two short stories
won't bring in enough to marry on, even if he can do them to Easten's
satisfaction--and the novel couldn't come out as a book now till late
spring--and Oliver has too many friends who dabble in writing to have
any more confidence in book royalties than he would have in systems for
beating the bank at roulette. Well, _that's_ over--and a year's work
with it--and all the dreams he and Nancy had of getting married at once.

Those pulley layouts have to be fixed up sometime. What can you say
about a pulley--what _can_ you say? "The United Steel Frame Pulley--Oh
Man, There's a Hog for Work!" Oliver turns the cheap phrase in his mind,
hating its shoddiness, hating the fact that such shoddiness is the only
stuff with which he can deal.

Sanely considered, he supposes he hasn't any business using up a month's
meagre savings and three small checks for poems that he has hoarded
since April in going out to St. Louis Friday. Mr. Alley wasn't too
pleased with letting him take Saturday and half Monday off to do it,
too. But then there was that telegram ten days ago. "I'd give anything
in the world if we could only see each other--" and after other letters
unsatisfactorily brief, the letter that came Monday "I have such grand
news, Ollie dear, at least it may be grand if it works out--but oh,
dear, I do want to see you about it without tangling it up in letters
that don't really explain. Can't you make it--even a few hours would be
long enough to talk it all over--and I do so want to see you and really
talk! Please wire me, if you can."

Grand news--what kind he wondered--and dully thought that he couldn't
see her, of course, and then suddenly knew that he must. After all,
there didn't seem to be much use in saving for the sake of saving when
all the saving you could possibly do didn