ffering to help,
while a foreshortened Sanford groped along the floor, under the dusty
line of coats, for her missing left rubber. Sanford came up with the
rubber, smiled like a nice boy, and walked with her to the Subway.

He didn't need much encouragement to tell his ambitions. He was
twenty-one--three years younger than herself. He was a semi-orphan, born
in Newark; had worked up from office-boy to clerk in the office of a
huge Jersey City paint company; had saved money to take a commercial
course; was going back to the paint company, and hoped to be
office-manager there. He had a conviction that "the finest man in the
world" was Mr. Claude Lowry, president of the Lowry Paint Company; the
next finest, Mr. Ernest Lowry, vice-president and general manager; the
next, Mr. Julius Schwirtz, one of the two city salesmen--Mr. Schwirtz
having occupied a desk next to his own for two years--and that "_the_
best paint on the market to-day is Lowry's Lasting Paint--simply no
getting around it."

In the five-minute walk over to the Eighteenth Street station of the
Subway, Sanford had lastingly impressed Una by his devotion to the job;
eager and faithful as the glory that a young subaltern takes in his
regiment. She agreed with him that the dour J. J. Todd was "crazy" in
his theories about profit-sharing and selling stocks to employees. While
she was with young Sanford, Una found herself concurring that "the
bosses know so much better about all those things--gee whiz! they've had
so much more experience--besides you can't expect them to give away all
their profits to please these walking delegates or a Cape Cod farmer
like Todd! All these theories don't do a fellow any good; what he wants
is to stick on a job and make good."

Though, in keeping with the general school-boyishness of the
institution, the study-room supervisors tried to prevent conversation,
there was always a current of whispering and low talk, and Sam Weintraub
gave Una daily reports of the tennis, the dances, the dinners at the
Prospect Athletic Club. Her evident awe of his urban amusements pleased
him. He told his former idol, the slim, blond giggler, that she was
altogether too fresh for a Bronx Kid, and he basked in Una's admiration.
Through him she had a revelation of the New York in which people
actually were born, which they took casually, as she did Panama.

She tried consciously to become a real New-Yorker herself. After
lunch--her home-made lunch of sa