ke them--"

"Say, what is all this cattle business about? I don't seem to recall we
were discussing stockyards. Are you trying to change the conversation,
so you won't even have to pack your grip before you call your own bluff
about leaving me? Don't get it at all, at all!"

"You will get it, my friend!... As I say, I can see--now it's too
late--how mean I must have been to you often. I've probably hurt your
feelings lots of times--"

"You have, all right."

"--but I still don't see how I could have avoided it. I don't blame
myself, either. We two simply never could get together--you're
two-thirds the old-fashioned brute, and I'm at least one-third the new,
independent woman. We wouldn't understand each other, not if we talked
a thousand years. Heavens alive! just see all these silly discussions of
suffrage that men like you carry on, when the whole thing is really so
simple: simply that women are intelligent human beings, and have the
right--"

"Now who mentioned suffrage? If you'll kindly let me know what you're
trying to get _at_, then--"

"You see? We two never could understand each other! So I'm just going to
clean house. Get rid of things that clutter it up. I'm going, to-night,
and I don't think I shall ever see you again, so do try to be pleasant
while I'm packing. This last time.... Oh, I'm free again. And so are
you, you poor, decent man. Let's congratulate each other."

Sec. 3

Despite the constant hammering of Mr. Schwirtz, who changed swiftly from
a tyrant to a bewildered orphan, Una methodically finished her packing,
went to a hotel, and within a week found in Brooklyn, near the Heights,
a pleasant white-and-green third-floor-front.

Her salary had been increased to twenty-five dollars a week.

She bought the blue suit and the crepe de Chine blouse recommended by
Miss Beatrice Joline. She was still sorry for Mr. Schwirtz; she thought
of him now and then, and wondered where he had gone. But that did not
prevent her enjoying the mirror's reflection of the new blouse.

Sec. 4

While he was dictating to Una, Mr. Truax monologized: "I don't see why
we can't sell that Boutell family a lot. We wouldn't make any profit out
of it, now, anyway--that's nearly eaten up by the overhead we've wasted
on them. But I hate to give them up, and your friend Mr. Fein says that
we aren't scientific salesmen if we give up the office problems that
everybody takes a whack at and seems to fail on."

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