, and very deliberate. It had to be deliberate; for, as a matter
of fact, on the outside Charles was not having at all a bad time.

The exaltation of the ante-clipping days had returned--returned
heightened, and was still growing day by day. A constant joyous babbling,
as of some inexhaustible spring, lay at the bottom of his soul. His
senses were singularly acute. He thrilled to a leaf, to a bud, to a patch
of blue sky; and the thrill remained long, a profound satisfaction within
him, after the stimulant had gone. With the resolution of a roue plunging
back into his vice after an enforced vacation, he had brought a large
sketch book; and he passed much time drawing lines into it--rapid beauty
streaks that gave him a sensation of birds. He saw often, now, a land
which was as a pool of gold beneath a turquoise sky; and a boy in the
wild oats watching a circling hawk. At such times his lungs filled deep
with the spring, and his arms were apt to beat at his sides in rapid
tattoo. This, in fact made up solely his morning exercises now. Standing
with legs close together, a-tip-toe, head back and chest forward, placing
his hands beneath his shoulders he waved his arms up and down in a beat
that rose in fervid crescendo, till his eyes closed and there went
through him a soaring ecstasy that threatened at times to lift him from
the floor.

All this, of course, was not without its disadvantage. Vaguely he felt
that in some subtle way he was gaining the disapproval of his fellows.
Men were apt to look at him askance, half doubtful, half-indignant. They
tread on his toes in the Elevated. His work, too, was going to pot; he
could not stick to his figures. His chief, an old fragile-necked
book-keeper, had spoken to him once.

"Mr. Sims," he had said, after a preliminary little cough; "Mr. Sims, you
ought to take care of your health. You are not well."

"Oh, yes I am," answered Charles-Norton, absent-mindedly. His eyes were
on the ceiling, where a fly was buzzing. "I'm all right!"

"You should--er--you should consult--a specialist, Mr. Sims. Don't you
know--your shoulders, your back--you should consult a spine-specialist,
Mr. Sims."

"Oh, that's all right," said Charles-Norton, easily. "Don't worry." And
thus he had sent back the old gentleman baffled to his high stool.

And then came Dolly's day.

"Dolly! Dolly! Dolly!"

It was morning, before breakfast. Charles-Norton was in the bedroom;
Dolly was setting the table in the