. It was all very cool and refreshing. She began to see where
certain phases of city life might prove to be quite pleasant. The
modern fleshpots may seem alluring not alone in retrospect.

At length they passed from the asphalt paving on to a roadway of
yellow-red gravel, and up ahead, Mary Louise could see a stretch of
open country and beyond, a ridge of misty blue hills. There was a
double line of young maples on either side of the boulevard and the
fresh young leaves were rustling vigorously in the evening breeze as
they passed. Claybrook settled down in his seat us they gained the
boundary between paving and roadway with what seemed almost like a
sigh of relief. He turned upon his companion a satisfied smile,
meanwhile cutting down their speed appreciably.

"This is something like it," he said. "Pretty hot down your way
to-day?"

"Terrible," admitted Mary Louise. "I don't believe those walls will
get cool again before Christmas."

He smiled without answering, being occupied at the moment with a
little difficulty in the traffic. Directly he was free.

"Rare old boy--the other night," he said, still watching the road.

For a moment she did not catch the reference.

"Down in the Rathskeller," he added.

A hot rush of confusion struck her and she made no reply, but he went
on:

"I've often wondered what these people were like fifty years
ago--living on top of the world, best farm land anywhere, fine old
homes, lots of servants--nothing to do but enjoy life. Let it slip
away from them, didn't they? Must not have known what they had." He
had relaxed and was driving comfortably. And as though wrapped in a
mist of his own musing he continued, his eyes fixed on the road before
him, "I've often thought that if I ever got to the point where I
could afford it I would get me one of those old places--lot of
land--stock it up well, fix up the house. I'd like to leave something
like that to my family." He chuckled. "They might not appreciate it as
much as I do, however."

"They might," she replied. "They might have just as hard a time trying
to keep it as--as we have. Conditions might change again in the next
fifty years."

He turned and smiled at her. "Hadn't thought of that." The crow's feet
were thick about his eyes. "Who was the boy?--the one you were with
the other night."

Mary Louise flushed in spite of herself. "Joe--Joe Hooper. You've
heard me speak of him."

"Oh, yes. Lives in Bloomfield, doesn't he?"