nies, the most industrious witty remarks, she made
me feel how thoroughly she disapproved of anything so deadening as
marriage, home and settling down, in this glorious age of new ideas.

One morning at breakfast, when I remarked as I commonly did that I would
be out for dinner that night,

"Where are you going?" she asked abruptly.

"To Eleanore Dillon's," I replied. Our eyes met squarely for a moment.

"Do you know what it means to go there so often, almost every night?"
she asked.

"I do," I answered bluntly. I would finish this meddling once and for
all. But Sue did not look finished.

"You'd better stay home to-night, Billy," she said.

"Why?"

"Joe Kramer is coming."

"What?"

"He telephoned me late last night. He's just come from Colorado and he
sails to-morrow for England. He's awfully anxious to see you."

Of course he was, and I knew what about! I saw at once by the look on
her face that Sue had told him all about me and had begged him to see
what he could do. Why couldn't they leave a fellow alone, I said
wrathfully to myself.

But my ire softened when I met Joe. In the year and a half since I had
seen him the lines in his face had deepened, the stoop of his big
shoulders had grown even more pronounced, and again I felt that wistful,
frowning, searching quality in him. Beneath his gruffness and his jeers
he was so honestly pushing on for what he could find most real in life.
A wave of the old affection came over me suddenly without warning.
Vaguely I wondered about it. Why did he always grip me so?

My father too appeared at first delighted to see him. He had shown a
keen relish for J. K. from that first time in college when I had brought
him home for Christmas. Since then, whenever Joe had come, he and Dad
had always managed to retreat to the study together and smoke and have
long dogged arguments. But to-night it was not the same. For in his
growth as a radical, Joe had gone beyond all arguing now. Lines of deep
displeasure slowly tightened on Dad's face. All through dinner he kept
attempting to turn the talk from Joe's work to mine. But this I would
have none of, I wanted to be let alone. So I nervously kept the
conversation on what Joe was up to. And Sue seemed more than eager to
learn.

J. K. was up to a good deal.

"This muckraking game is played out," he said. "We all know how rotten
things are. All we want to know now is what's to be done." And he
himself had become absorbed in wha