moment and when he saw the
determination plainly evident in the young man's face and realised that
there was no further purpose in discussion, he took his hat. "You're a
fine young demigod now, Roger," he sneered. "But wait. Bigger men than
you have tried this game before. They've broken--every one of them."

Faxon paused in the doorway as if he would say more, but Roger had
already turned his back upon him. With an oath he slammed the door.

"I wonder what he takes me for," murmured Roger. "Thinks I'm a child
does he ... got another think, I guess." Then he went in search of Good
and Jenkins.

His sense of isolation and futility seemed to have deserted him utterly.
For the first time in his life he felt himself at grips with a man's
reality. Disdaining the elevator he skipped up the stairs to Bassett's
office with his heart full of a curious exaltation such as he had never
experienced before. Like a boy, but feeling very much a man, he burst
into the editor's office.

"Good Lord," he cried, as he saw their sombre countenances, "who's
dead?"

"Well, what happened?" asked Jenkins perfunctorily, as if he knew the
answer already.

"Oh, we fixed things up beautifully," said Roger, lightly.

"Of course," muttered Bassett under his breath, "I knew you would."

Though Good did not speak, the question was in his expression. Roger saw
it, and a light came into his eyes which none of them had ever seen
there before.

"I hope you've got some more of that stuff on the girls for to-morrow,"
he said quietly. "Go after 'em strong."

Then, while the others sat thunderstruck, he drew a cigarette from his
case and lighted it, deliberately.

[Illustration: "I say, you know," he said between puffs, "business is
the--greatest--game--in the world."]

"I say, you know," he said, between puffs, "business is
the--greatest--game--in the world."

CHAPTER IX

BURNED BRIDGES

Imrie's impulsive resignation from St. Viateur's was not treated at all
seriously by the vestry. "The natural impetuousness of youth," observed
Mr. Corey, not a little virtuously; for Mr. Corey had never been
impetuous in his life. The other gentlemen quite agreed with him.

Judge Wolcott was magnanimous. "For my part, I believe in letting
bygones be bygones."

Mr. Aishton, who was very thin and dry, giving the curious impression of
never having experienced youth, was more explicit. "It's new
ideas--unassimilated," he declared. "His years make hi