't say anything to Zilla simply. Why, Georgie, she's almost as
much of a moralist as you are, and if I told her the truth she'd believe
we were going to meet some dames in New York. And even Myra--she never
nags you, the way Zilla does, but she'd worry. She'd say, 'Don't you
WANT me to go to Maine with you? I shouldn't dream of going unless you
wanted me;' and you'd give in to save her feelings. Oh, the devil! Let's
have a shot at duck-pins."

During the game of duck-pins, a juvenile form of bowling, Paul was
silent. As they came down the steps of the club, not more than half an
hour after the time at which Babbitt had sternly told Miss McGoun he
would be back, Paul sighed, "Look here, old man, oughtn't to talked
about Zilla way I did."

"Rats, old man, it lets off steam."

"Oh, I know! After spending all noon sneering at the conventional stuff,
I'm conventional enough to be ashamed of saving my life by busting out
with my fool troubles!"

"Old Paul, your nerves are kind of on the bum. I'm going to take you
away. I'm going to rig this thing. I'm going to have an important deal
in New York and--and sure, of course!--I'll need you to advise me on the
roof of the building! And the ole deal will fall through, and there'll
be nothing for us but to go on ahead to Maine. I--Paul, when it comes
right down to it, I don't care whether you bust loose or not. I do like
having a rep for being one of the Bunch, but if you ever needed me
I'd chuck it and come out for you every time! Not of course but what
you're--course I don't mean you'd ever do anything that would put--that
would put a decent position on the fritz but--See how I mean? I'm kind
of a clumsy old codger, and I need your fine Eyetalian hand. We--Oh,
hell, I can't stand here gassing all day! On the job! S' long! Don't
take any wooden money, Paulibus! See you soon! S' long!"

CHAPTER VI

I

HE forgot Paul Riesling in an afternoon of not unagreeable details.
After a return to his office, which seemed to have staggered on without
him, he drove a "prospect" out to view a four-flat tenement in the
Linton district. He was inspired by the customer's admiration of the new
cigar-lighter. Thrice its novelty made him use it, and thrice he hurled
half-smoked cigarettes from the car, protesting, "I GOT to quit smoking
so blame much!"

Their ample discussion of every detail of the cigar-lighter led them
to speak of electric flat-irons and bed-warmers. Babbitt apologized