' every time he does
anything for you."

"Lunch is served, sir, thank you, sir," announced the impassive Nelton
from the doorway.

Lewis smiled, and then laughed at his father's face.

"Nelton," said Leighton, "did you hear what I was saying?"

"I did, sir, thank----"

"Yes, yes," broke in Leighton, "we know. Well, Nelton, your pay is
raised. Ten per cent."

"Yes, sir," said Nelton, unmoved. "Thank _you,_ sir."

"As I was saying," continued Leighton to Lewis, "a country where money
can't buy little things. A leveled country where there's less under dog
than anywhere else on the face of the earth. A people that's more
communal and less socialistic than any other commonwealth. A happy
nation, my boy--a happy nation of discontented units. Do you get that?
Of discontented units."

"Yes, I think I do," said Lewis.

"You don't, but you will in time," said Leighton.

CHAPTER XLI

WHEN Lewis burst upon Folly with the news that his father had given not
only consent to the marriage, but half his income to smooth the way to
it, Folly frowned. What was the game? she wondered. But the first thing
she asked was:

"And how much is that?"

Lewis stammered, and said really he didn't know, which made Folly laugh.
Then he told her about the six months and the trip to America. Whereupon
Folly nodded her head and said:

"Oh, that's it, is it? Well, your governor is willing to pay pretty
thick for six months of you. All I want to know is, Will you come back
to me?"

"Come back to you, Folly?" cried Lewis, "Of course I'll come back to
you. Why, that's just what I'm going for. To sell the house and fix
things so I _can_ come back to you."

At the same hour Leighton was saying good-by to H lne. He had not
really come to say good-by. He had come to thank her for her sacrifice,
for the things he knew she had said to Lew. He did not try to thank her
in words. A boyish glance, an awkward movement, a laugh that
broke--these things said more to H lne than words.

"So you've got six months' grace," said H lne, when Leighton had told
her how things stood. "Glen, do you remember this: 'All erotic love is a
progression. There is no amatory affection that can stand the strain of
a separation of six months in conjunction with six thousand miles. All
the standard tales of _grande passion_ and absence are--'"

"'Legendary hypotheses based on a neurotic foundation,'" finished
Leighton. "Yes, I remember that theory of mine. I'm