side Breede looked at Bean as if, faintly puzzled, he was trying to
recall the fellow's face. One could fancy him saying, "Prob'ly some chap
works in m' office."

Father and daughter entered the car. Bean raised his dented hat. Breede
was oblivious; the flapper permitted herself a severe double nod. The
motor chugged violently. Bean, moving on a few steps, turned. The
flapper was looking back. She stared an instant then most astonishingly
smiled, a smile that seemed almost vocal with many glad words. Bean felt
himself smile weakly in response.

He walked a long way before he took a car, his eyes on the pavement, his
mind filled with a vision. When the flapper smiled it did something to
him, but what it was he couldn't tell. She had a different face when she
smiled; her parting lips made a new beauty in the world. He thought the
golden brown of her hair rather wonderful. It was like the golden brown
of the new dog. He recalled little details of her face, the short upper
lip, the forward chin, the breadth of the brow. There was something
disconcerting about that brow and the eyes like her father's--probably
have her own way! Then he remembered that he must have noticed a badge
pinned to the left lapel of a jacket that had been fashioned--with no
great difficulty, he thought--to give its wearer the appearance of
perfect physical development. He couldn't remember when he had precisely
noted this badge, perhaps in some frenzied moment in the game's
delirium, but it was vividly before him now--"VOTES FOR WOMEN!" What did
that signify in her character? Perhaps something not too pleasant.

Still--he lived again through the smile that had seemed to speak.

* * * * *

Three days later, at the close of an afternoon's grinding work, the grim
old man at the desk looked up as Bean was leaving the room.

"S'good game!"

"Fine!" said Bean, as he closed the door.

But for this reference and one other circumstance Bean might have
supposed that Breede had forgotten the day. The other circumstance was
an area of rich yellowish purple on the arm which Breede had madly
gripped in moments of ecstasy, together with painful spots on his right
side where the elbow of Breede had almost continuously jabbed him.

V

The latest Napoleonic dynasty was tottering. The more Bean read of
that possible former self, the less he admired its manifestations. A
Corsican upstart, an assassin, no gentleman! It wa