isgusted was he that,
although the Government allowed three months longer before discarding
uniforms, he shed his in disgust for "cits."

But James Shotwell, Jr., was not the only man bewildered and
annoyed by the rapidity of events which followed the first days of
demobilisation. Half a dozen other young fellows in the big real
estate offices of Clarence Sharrow & Co. found themselves yanked out
of uniform and seated once more at their familiar, uninviting desks
of yellow oak--very young men, mostly, assigned to various camps of
special three-month instruction; and now cruelly interrupted while
scrambling frantically after commissions in machine-gun companies,
field artillery, flying units, and tank corps.

And there they were, back again at the old grind before they could
realise their horrid predicament--the majority already glum and
restless under the reaction, and hating Shotwell, who, among them all,
had been the only man to cross the sea.

This war-worn and envied veteran of a few months, perfectly aware that
his military career had ended, was now trying to accept the situation
and habituate himself to the loathly technique of commerce.

Out of uniform, out of humour, out of touch with the arts of peace;
still, at times, all a-quiver with the nervous shock of his
experience, it was very hard for him to speak respectfully to Mr.
Sharrow.

As instructor to rookie aspirants he would have been somebody: he had
already been somebody as a lieutenant of infantry in the thunderous
scheme of things in the Argonne.

But in the offices of Clarence Sharrow & Co. he was merely a rather
nice-looking civilian subordinate, whose duties were to aid clients in
the selection and purchase of residences, advise them, consult with
them, make appointments to show them dwelling houses, vacant or still
tenanted, and in every stage of repair or decrepitude.

On the wall beside his desk hung a tinted map of the metropolis. Upon
a table at his elbow were piled ponderous tomes depicting the Bronx in
all its beauty, and giving details of suburban sewers. Other volumes
contained maps of the fashionable residential district, showing every
consecrated block and the exact location as well as the linear
dimensions of every awesome residence and back yard from Washington
Square to Yorkville.

By referring to a note-book which he carried in his breast pocket,
young Shotwell could inform any grand lady or any pompous or fussy
gentleman wha