ed the subject. It was a trifling incident; but
had she settled all later problems as she settled that one, the course
of her life would have been changed completely.

These were agreeable days, on the whole, for Judith and her guest, but
not for Roger. Pursuant to his sister's ultimatum and his own high
resolution taken thereon, he had fared forth, paladin-like, to conquer
that mysterious world wherein men bought and sold all manner of things,
not excluding themselves. But it had proven anything but the high road
to glory that he had secretly anticipated; he shivered lances daily with
an intangible enemy which neither showed its face nor gave its name, but
before which he seemed quite powerless.

He had gone first, as he said he would, to Judge Wolcott, and had, with
perhaps less humility than he himself thought he was displaying, but
with more than might naturally have been expected, announced his
readiness to consider any satisfactory (emphasised) "position" to which
he might be directed.

To his resentment, not to say surprise, the Judge had first laughed
unrestrainedly. But on realising the offence he was giving, which Roger
was at no pains to conceal, he had become quite serious, and had
directed the young man to a number of gentlemen, whose names he wrote
out on a bit of cardboard.

These gentlemen, however, had proved to have their habitat behind corps
of more or less impertinent menials. It had required very explicit
answers to what he considered a great number of entirely unnecessary
questions before he earned even the privilege of having his card
presented.

Once in the inner sancta, however, he had been treated most courteously,
the objects of his calls being impressed with the name of Wynrod no less
than with that of Wolcott. But after the exchange of sundry pleasantries
and compliments, he had invariably been shunted, though with exquisite
tact and delicacy, on to someone else.

He had found this process of education in the ways of the business world
excessively tiresome; but there was in his character a powerful, if
inconspicuous, vein of obstinacy, and he stuck grimly to the task in
hand. But he was nothing if not human, and his constant failure
gradually wore down his courage. To advance slowly would be hard enough,
he told himself; but not to move at all was altogether disheartening.

The natural consequence of it all was that he went into town later and
later, and came out earlier and earlier.