ion, of being one day nearer to the
day ahead.

The day that he had taken Myrtle Macomber up the river road had been
Tuesday. On Wednesday he had risen, sluggish and weary, with an ache
in his bones. A half-hearted, spasmodic attempt at work had ended at
eleven o'clock. He had called up Myrtle. They went that afternoon to a
ball-game. Thursday morning came, bright with promise, and a
profitable forenoon was spent in the old hammer-and-tongs manner. By
noon he had two orders in his pocket and felt quite exhausted. The
heat drank up the very marrow from one's bones. He met Myrtle on the
street. They had lunch together. All that afternoon they paddled about
in the river and came home with hair wet and nerves sagging. Friday
passed, a long dreary day. By the time five o'clock arrived Joe would
willingly have sunk down on the cement pavement in some shaded corner,
just to take his mind from the grip of the traffic. There was nothing
in the selling of motor cars to give his mind anything to bite on.
What was it kept him going, he asked himself? The answer suggested
itself to him, but he shook it off and mused on. Summer was a dreary
time. That night he dragged himself to Lytle Street. He found Miss
Macomber waiting for him on the porch. She was wearing a Nile green
sports suit of soft flannel, with white facings, and white shoes and
stockings and a stiff sailor hat of white straw. As he came up the
walk and approached the steps, he heard a scurrying and moving of
chairs, and as he gained the porch he caught a glimpse of a scuttling
back in a baggy shirt with suspenders, a stooped fat neck that was
collarless, and a frayed-out bald spot--just a glint of it--on the
head above. From humble soil is sometimes nurtured the choicest of
blooms. Joe had never met Mr. Macomber and the mother always seemed to
keep discreetly in the background.

They went that night to the amusement park on the river. Myrtle looked
like a clipping from a style magazine; there was not a flaw in her.
She drank up amusement like a thirsty sponge. They wandered about
after the show. They drank lemonade. They danced in the pavilion. They
wandered about some more, listened for a short time to the trillings
of a robustious prima donna come upon evil days. They soon tired of
this so easily attained diversion and feverishly set out for more.
They danced again. They ran into a crowd of Myrtle's friends. They
joined them in a series of mad dashes on the roller co