ice he drove away memory of the girl he had just left at
Doctor Bronson's office. Presently Smith returned, slipping along in
his shiny black suit, flat-footed and slightly bowed, with his set
dull expression.

"Lane, Mr. Manton asks you to please excuse him. He's extremely busy,"
said Smith. "I told him that you wanted your old job back. And he
instructed me to tell you he had been put to the trouble of breaking
in a girl to take your place. She now does the work you used to
have--very satisfactorily, Mr. Manton thinks, and at less pay. So, of
course, a change is impossible."

"I see," returned Lane, slowly, as he rose to go. "I had an idea that
might be the case. I'm finding things--a little different."

"No doubt, Lane. You fellows who went away left us to make the best of
it."

"Yes, Smith, we fellows 'went away,'" replied Lane, with satire, "and
I'm finding out the fact wasn't greatly appreciated. Good day."

On the way out the little office girl opened the door for him and
ogled him again, and stood a moment on the threshold. Ponderingly,
Lane made his way down to the street. A rush of cool spring air seemed
to refresh him, and with it came a realization that he never would
have been able to stay cooped up in Manton's place. Even if his
services had been greatly desired he could not have given them for
long. He could not have stood that place. This was a new phase of his
mental condition. Work almost anywhere in Middleville would be like
that in Manton's. Could he stand work at all, not only in a physical
sense, but in application of mind? He began to worry about that.

Some one hailed Lane, and he turned to recognize an old
acquaintance--Matt Jones. They walked along the street together,
meeting other men who knew Lane, some of whom greeted him heartily.
Then, during an ensuing hour, he went into familiar stores and the
postoffice, the hotel and finally the Bradford Inn, meeting many
people whom he had known well. The sum of all their greetings left him
in cold amaze. At length Lane grasped the subtle import--that people
were tired of any one or anything which reminded them of the war. He
tried to drive that thought from lodgment in his mind. But it stuck.
And slowly he gathered the forces of his spirit to make good the
resolve with which he had faced this day--to withstand an appalling
truth.

At the inn he sat before an open fire and pondered between brief
conversations of men who accosted him. On the