d themselves
in comfortable Morris chairs with long, black cigars between their
teeth, and all four engaged in a spirited discussion of various topics
of the day. After a time, the older couple left the room, the lawyer
going into his study to work, as he always did in the evening.

"Well, Dicky, how's everything?" Dorothy asked, unthinkingly.

The result of this innocent question was astonishing. Seaton leaped to
his feet. The problem, dormant for two hours, was again in complete
possession of his mind.

"Rotten!" he snapped, striding back and forth and brandishing his
half-smoked cigar. "My head is so thick that it takes a thousand years
for an idea to filter into it. I should have the whole thing clear by
this time, but I haven't. There's something, some little factor, that I
can't get. I've almost had it a dozen times, but it always gets away
from me. I know that the force is there and I can liberate it, but I
can't work out a system of control until I can understand exactly why it
acts the way it does." Then, more slowly, thinking aloud rather than
addressing the girl:

"The force is attraction toward all matter, generated by the vibrations
of all the constituent electrons in parallel planes. It is directed
along a line perpendicular to the plane of vibration at its center, and
approaches infinity as the angle theta approaches the limit of Pi
divided by two. Therefore, by shifting the axis of rotation or the plane
of vibration thus making theta vary between the limits of zero and Pi
divided by two...."

He was interrupted by Dorothy, who, mortified by her thoughtlessness in
getting him started, had sprung up and seized him by the arm.

"Sit down, Dicky!" she implored. "Sit down, you're rocking the boat!
Save your mathematics for Martin. Don't you know that I could never find
out why 'x' was equal to 'y' or to anything else in algebra?"

She led him back to his chair, where he drew her down to a seat on the
arm beside him.

"Whom do you love?" she whispered gayly in his ear.

After a time she freed herself.

* * * * *

"I haven't practised today. Don't you want me to play for you a little?"

"Fine business, Dottie. When you play a violin, it talks."

She took down her violin and played; first his favorites, crashing
selections from operas and solos by the great masters, abounding in
harmonies on two strings. Then she changed to reveries and soft,
plaintive melodies. Sea