possessed him after her departure. He was determined to forge ahead in
business, get an education, and become versed in the gentler branches of
social life at the earliest possible moment. His chief trouble was that
the days contained only twenty-four hours. Even his dreams were a jumble
of plows and personal pronouns, of mathematical problems and social
proprieties.

At the factory he flung himself into the affairs of the firm with a zeal
that at times bordered on officiousness. But Mr. Bangs was beginning to
find him useful, and, while he continued to snub him and correct him, he
also came to depend upon him, especially in an emergency. Quin, on his
part, was for the first time turning a critical eye on his own
achievements in relation to those of bigger and abler men, and the result
was chastening.

As for his mad thirst for knowledge, even the university classes,
difficult as they were proving, failed to satisfy him. He purchased an
expensive "system" in fifteen volumes, by means of which, the prospectus
assured him, he could easily achieve a college education in eight months.
He wore the covers off the first two booklets, then became disgusted, and
devoted himself instead to a small handbook entitled "Words We
Mispronounce."

The branch of his education in which he was making least effort and most
progress was in the customs and manners of polite society. He did not
shine as yet, but he had ceased to offend, and that was a long step
forward. Once initiated into the refinements of life, he took to them
naturally. Miss Isobel and Miss Enid Bartlett had given him the cue, and
Mr. Chester was keeping him up to his standard.

Between him and the latter had sprung up a queer friendship verging on
intimacy. Ever since the night of the symphony concert he had served as a
connecting link between the long-severed lovers, and out of gratitude he
had been adopted as a protege. It was Mr. Chester who assumed
responsibility not only for his musical and literary tastes but for his
neckties and hosiery as well. Mr. Chester, in fact, being too negative
and conservative, acted as a much-needed soft pedal on Quin's noisy
aggressiveness. "Not so loud, Quinby," or, "A little more gently, my
boy," he would often say. And Quin would acquiesce good-naturedly and
even gratefully. "That's right, call me down," he would say; "I guess
I'll learn before I die."

In all that he did and said and thought, one object was paramount. He
neve