h neat porches and surrounded by
well-cut lawns, instead of weeds. He, with his new budget, could do
better. Even Robinson's well-constructed residence had probably
cost only three thousand more than he himself planned to spend. Its
suggestion of originality had been all but submerged by carpenters
spoiled through constant work on commonplace buildings. But to Martin it
was a marvellous mansion. He told himself that with such a place moved
out to his quarter-section, he could have stood on his door-step and
chosen whomever he wished for a wife.

It was an elemental materialism, difficult to understand, but it was a
language very clear to Martin. Marriage with the men and women of his
world was a practical business, arranged and conducted by practical
people, who lived practical lives, and died practical deaths. The women
who might pass his way could deny their lust for concrete possessions,
but their actions, however concealed their motives, would give the lie
to any ineffectual glamour of romance they might attempt to fling over
their carefully measured adventures of the heart.

Martin smiled cynically as he let his thoughts drift along this channel.
"What a lot of bosh is talked about lovers," his comment ran. "As if
everyone didn't really know how much like drunken men they are--saying
things which in a month they'll have forgotten. Folks pretend to approve
of 'em and all the while they're laughing at 'em up their sleeves. But
how they respect a man who's got the root they're all grubbing for! It
may be the root of all evil, but it's a fact that everything people want
grows from it. They hate a man for having it, but they'd like to be
him. Their hearts have all got strings dangling from 'em, especially
the women's. A house tied onto the other end ought to be hefty enough to
fetch the best of the lot."

Who could she be, anyway? Was she someone in Fallon? He drove slowly,
thinking over the families in the different houses--four to each side
of the block. The street, even yet, was little more than a country road.
There was no indication of the six miles of pavement which later were
to be Fallon's pride. It had rained earlier in the week and Martin was
obliged to be careful of the chuck-holes in the sticky, heavy gumbo soon
to be the bane of pioneers venturing forth in what were to be known for
a few short years as "horseless carriages."

Bumping along he recalled to his mind the various girls with whom he had
gone