enging the immediate value of social science
itself.

His thought veered, swept out of its channel by an unwonted wave of
bitterness. Klinker had offered him this material, Klinker had advised
him to write an editorial about it, Klinker had pointed out for him, in
almost a superior way, just where the trouble lay. Nor was this all. Of
late everybody seemed to be giving him advice. Only the other week it
was Fifi; and that same day, the young lady Charles Weyland. What was
there about him that invited this sort of thing?... And he was going to
take Klinker's advice; he had seized upon it gratefully. Nor could he
say that he was utterly insensate to Fifi's: he had caught himself
saying over part of it not ten minutes ago. As for Charles Weyland's
ripsaw criticisms, he had analyzed them dispassionately, as he had
promised, and his reason rejected them in toto. Yet he could not
exactly say that he had wholly purged them out of his mind. No ... the
fact was that some of her phrases had managed to burn themselves into
his brain.

Presently Klinker said another thing that his friend the little Doctor
remembered for a long time.

"Do you know what's the finest line in Scripture, Doc? _But He spake of
the temple of His body._ I heard a minister get that off in a church
once, in a sermon, and I don't guess I'll ever forget it. A dandy, ain't
it?... Exercise and live straight. Keep your temple strong and clean. If
I was a parson, I tell you, I'd go right to Seventh and Centre next
Saturday and give a talk to them blaggards on that. _But He spake of_
..."

Klinker stopped as though he had been shot. A sudden agonized scream
from downstairs jerked him off the bed and to his feet in a second
solemn as at the last trump. He stared at Queed wide-eyed, his honest
red face suddenly white.

"God forgive me for talkin' so loud.... I'd ought to have known...."

"What is it? Who was that?" demanded Queed, startled more by Klinker's
look than by that scream.

But Klinker only turned and slipped softly out of the door, tipping on
his toes as though somebody near at hand 4 were asleep.

Queed was left bewildered, and completely at a loss. Whatever the matter
was, it clearly concerned Buck Klinker. Equally clearly, it did not
concern him. People had a right to scream if they felt that way, without
having a horde of boarders hurry out and call them to book.

However, his scientist's fondness for getting at the underlying
causes--or as