Her husband rose with a sigh that was half a curse, and went out. After what she had said, he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing what he meant to do; but he had it in his head to go to that Mr. Atherton to whom Miss Kingsbury had introduced him, and ask his advice; he had found out that Mr. Atherton was a lawyer, and he believed that he would tell him what to do. He could at least give him some authoritative discouragement which he might use in these discussions with Marcia. Mr. Atherton had his office in the Events building, and Bartley was on his way thither when he met Ricker. “Seen Witherby?” asked his friend. “He was round looking for you.” “What does Witherby want with me?” asked Bartley, with a certain resentment. “Wants to give you the managing-editorship of the Events,” said Ricker, jocosely. “Pshaw! Well, he knows where to find me, if he wants me very badly.” “Perhaps he doesn't,” suggested Ricker. “In that case, you'd better look him up.” “Why, you don't advise--” “Oh, _I_ don't advise anything! But if _he_ can let bygones be bygones, I guess _you_ can afford to! I don't know just what he wants with you, but if he offers you anything like a basis, you'd better take it.” Bartley's basis had come to be a sort of by-word between them; Ricker usually met him with some such demand as, “Well, what about the basis?” or, “How's your poor basis?” Bartley's ardor for a salaried position amused him, and he often tried to argue him out of it. “You're much better off as a free lance. You make as much money as most of the fellows in places, and you lead a pleasanter life. If you were on any one paper, you'd have to be on duty about fifteen hours out of the twenty-four; you'd be out every night till three or four o'clock; you'd have to do fires, and murders, and all sorts of police business; and now you work mostly on fancy jobs,--something you suggest yourself, or something you're specially asked to do. That's a kind of a compliment, and it gives you scope.” Nevertheless, if Bartley had his heart set upon a basis, Ricker wanted him to have it. “Of course,” he said, “I was only joking about the basis. But if Witherby should have something permanent to offer, don't quarrel with your bread and butter, and don't hold yourself _too_ cheap. Witherby's going to get all he can, for as little as he can, every time.”