narrower social sense, but he'd never realized how easy that sort of
democracy is and how little it means to a man never associated with
persons who assert a social superiority over him. He'd always made a
point of despising luxuries, to be sure. But it hadn't been brought to
his attention at how high a level he drew the line between luxuries and
mere decent necessities.

He wasn't then, near so much of a Spartan as he thought. His long
association with the Lakes and their friends might, you'd think, have
brought him the consolatory reflection that a woman who earned even a
successful chorus-girl's wages, needn't be pitied too lamentably on the
score of poverty; that Rose could, no doubt, have afforded a better room
than that, if she'd wanted to. And that even a three-dollar room, a
whole room that you hadn't to share with anybody, would--if the rent of
it left you money enough to send out your clothes to the laundry and to
buy adequate meals in restaurants--represent luxury--well, to more
people than one likes to think about.

Rodney knew that well enough, of course. He'd read the Sage Foundation
reports on housing; he was familiar with the results of the Pittsburgh
Survey. But the person in question now, wasn't the Working Girl. It was
his Rose!

Out of all the chaos of thought and feeling that had been boiling within
him since the night he had gone with Rose to her room, there emerged,
then, two outstanding ideas. One was that he had outraged her; the other
that she simply couldn't be allowed to go on living as he had found her.

Frederica, naturally, was mystified. "That's absurd, of course, Roddy,"
she said gently. "You haven't done anything to Rose to be forgiven for."

"You'll just have to take my word for it," he said shortly. "I'm not
exaggerating."

"But, Roddy!" she persisted. "You must be sensible. Oh, it's no wonder!
You're all worn out. You look as if you hadn't slept for nights. I wish
you'd sit down and be a little bit comfortable. But I _know_ you're
wrong about that!

"I went out to California with the idea that you might have been--well,
awfully stupid about something and hurt Rose dreadfully without knowing
it. I was perfectly ready to be--on her side, as you say. I thought we'd
have a good talk and I'd find out what it was all about, and then come
home and pack you out there yourself.

"Well, of course I didn't see Rose, and Portia wasn't very
communicative. She'd always been a little stif