"Certainly I did," he said. "I had not foreseen that the emergency had come to-day, but was prepared." He turned to Deming. "I had intended leaving Macgowan to talk things over with you and present this course as a future means of saving Food Products. Since this crisis has turned up to-day, I took occasion to present it myself. If you would prefer that I leave your company alone--" Deming flushed, and took the arm of the younger man. "Reese, you're worth all of us," he said simply. "If you can save my business reputation, let the rest go! Now, gentlemen, business is over; our guests await us downstairs. Suppose we return to a social status and account this meeting adjourned until to-night. I am sure that Mr. Macgowan will handle matters acceptably." "He will," assented Armstrong, and left the room with Deming. Chairs scraped back and men came to their feet, following. Macgowan, making some notes, and writing out the check for Williams, was the last to depart. At the door, he overtook Ried Williams, and put his hand on the arm of his cousin. "I'll have Reese sign this check right away. Ried, we have just witnessed a very interesting psychological study--the intolerance of a young man. You observed it?" Williams frowned. "You mean--Slosson?" "I don't mean Slosson. I mean the young Napoleon who issued his dicta and made those dicta obeyed. That is the vice of the young, Ried; to lack sufferance of the errors that others make. In a young man, intolerance is a natural inheritance; in an older man, it is an unpardonable fault." The sallow features of Williams flushed a little. "He talked to us as though we were--niggers!" he rasped. The clasp of Macgowan's fingers tightened slightly on his arm. "Exactly, my dear Ried," came the smooth accents. "But remember, he is a young man! His education is not yet finished." With this cryptic remark, Macgowan hurried off to join the groom, leaving Williams to stare after him in frowning surmise. CHAPTER III Dorothy glanced up from the letter which she was eagerly devouring. "Father writes that the company is completely reorganized and that he's retiring for good--and, Reese, he says to thank you for everything! Were things so bad as that?" "Worse," said Armstrong laconically, then smiled as his wife's fingers crept into his. This man, to whose lips a smile came so rarely, had of a sudden become a boy again, laughing from morning to night, adoring his bride with a strangely fearful veneration yet partaking with her in a joyous and exhilarating zest, a gayety unabashed and unashamed, a sheer reckless enjoyment of youth and life--and partnership.