roperty stands simply as a counter
and medium of exchange the measure of life is inevitably different. The
good-natured chaffing at the Club was forgotten by Huntington before he
stepped into his automobile, but it still remained in Cosden's mind. As
the car rolled out of the Club grounds he turned to his companion.

"Monty," he said, "what is there so different about us that it attracts
comment?"

"We should have found out if you hadn't snapped together like a steel
trap. There was the chance of a lifetime to learn all about ourselves,
and you shut them off by saying, 'If we're satisfied, whose concern is
it, anyhow?'"

"Of course we are different," Cosden continued; "that's only natural. No
two fellows are alike. I wonder if what you said about our being
bachelors hasn't more truth than poetry in it.--Give me a light from
your pipe."

"What is the connection?"

Cosden suddenly became absorbed and gave no sign that he heard the
question. When he spoke his words seemed still more irrelevant.

"Monty," he said seriously, "I want you to take a little trip with me
for perhaps two or three weeks, or longer. What do you say?"

Huntington showed no surprise. "It might possibly be arranged," he said.

Again Cosden relapsed into silence, puffing vigorously at his cigar as
was his habit when excited. Huntington watched him curiously, wondering
what lay behind.

"Did you ever try smoking a cigar with a vacuum cleaner?" he asked
maliciously. "They say it draws beautifully, and consumes the cigar in
one-tenth the time ordinarily required by a human being."

Cosden was oblivious to his raillery. "What do you think of marriage?"
he demanded abruptly.

The question, and the serious manner in which it was asked, succeeded in
rousing Huntington to a point of interest.

"What do I think of-- So that's the idea, is it, Connie? That's why you
picked me up on what I said about bachelors? Good heavens, man! you
haven't made up your mind to marry me off like this without my consent?"

"Of course not," Cosden answered, with some impatience; "but what do you
think of the idea in general?"

Huntington looked at his companion with some curiosity. "Well," he said
deliberately, "if you really ask the question seriously, I consider
marriage an immorality, as it offers the greatest possible encouragement
to deceit."

Cosden sighed. "You are a hard man to talk to when you don't start the
conversation. I really want your advice."