The girl in the aisle swayed against him once more--this time it was more like a sag. She was tired, too. Well, it was weary to work. The ends of many proverbs that had to do with toil and the long day floated fragmentarily through his mind. Everybody in the world was tired--this woman, for instance, whose body was sagging so wearily, so strangely against his. But his home came first and his girl that he loved was waiting for him there. He must keep his strength for her, and he said to himself over and over that he would not give up his seat. Then he heard a long sigh, followed by a sudden exclamation, and he realized that the girl was no longer leaning against him. The exclamation multiplied into a clatter of voices--then came a pause--then a renewed clatter that travelled down the car in calls and little staccato cries to the conductor. The bell clanged violently, and the hot car jolted to a sudden stop. "Girl fainted up here!" "Too hot for her!" "Just keeled right over!" "Get back there! Gangway, you!" The crowd eddied apart. The passengers in front squeezed back and those on the rear platform temporarily disembarked. Curiosity and pity bubbled out of suddenly conversing groups. People tried to help, got in the way. Then the bell rang and voices rose stridently again. "Get her out all right?" "Say, did you see that?" "This damn' company ought to----" "Did you see the man that carried her out? He was pale as a ghost, too." "Yes, but did you hear----?" "What?" "That fella. That pale fella that carried her out. He was sittin' beside her--he says she's his wife!" The house was quiet. A breeze pressed back the dark vine leaves of the veranda, letting in thin yellow rods of moonlight on the wicker chairs. Jaqueline rested placidly on the long settee with her head in his arms. After a while she stirred lazily; her hand reaching up patted his cheek. "I think I'll go to bed now. I'm so tired. Will you help me up?" He lifted her and then laid her back among the pillows. "I'll be with you in a minute," he said gently. "Can you wait for just a minute?" He passed into the lighted living-room, and she heard him thumbing the pages of a telephone directory; then she listened as he called a number. "Hello, is Mr. Lacy there? Why--yes, it _is_ pretty important--if he hasn't gone to sleep." A pause. Jaqueline could hear restless sparrows splattering through the leaves of the magnolia over the way. Then her husband at the telephone: "Is this Mr. Lacy? Oh, this is Mather. Why--why, in regard to that matter we talked about this afternoon, I think I'll be able to fix that up after all." He raised his voice a little as though some one at the other end found it difficult to hear. "James Mather's son, I said-- About that little matter this afternoon----" "THE SENSIBLE THING"