“Oh, I don’t mean come to your house,” said Joe. “Of course the Madam wouldn’t like a poor boy like me comin’ round. . . . But to your office . . . ?” “Quite impossible!” gasped the millionaire. Joe heard the voices of the ladies within. He had but one more throw! “If you was to walk home to get the air, like,” he whispered swiftly, “I could catch up to you. And you could talk to me. If I only had a man like you to tell me what to do . . . !” Mr. Gore gave no sign. The door opened, and the rest came streaming out on the stoop. Joe flattened himself against the balustrade, and watched. There were polite good-byes. It seemed to be the general feeling that the Gores must be allowed to get away first; and everybody else remained on the stoop, while the millionaire handed his wife down, and the footman opened the carriage door. Mr. Gore paused with a foot on the step, as if he had just had an idea. “. . . Er, my dear,” said he to his wife, “I am smoking. I will walk home so that you may not be troubled by the fumes.” Joe felt like God. The footman closed the carriage door, and running around behind, climbed up nimbly as the carriage started. The turnout clip-clopped briskly down the street. Mr. Gore set off towards the Avenue, swinging his shoulders. The long-legged young professor suddenly scampered down the steps. “Oh, Mr. Gore, if you’re walking . . . !” he cried. In his heart Joe cursed him. Mr. Gore paused politely. There was a brief exchange on the sidewalk which Joe could not hear. Then . . . the professor remained standing where he was with a foolish look, and Mr. Gore walked on, swinging his shoulders. Joe’s heart rebounded. PART TWO: YOUTHS PART TWO I Nothing in the Gore offices could have been changed in many years, Wilfred supposed. Many a country lawyer did himself better. Mr. Amasa Gore shared one very large room with his secretary, John Dobereiner and his assistant secretary, or office boy, or door-keeper, or whatever you chose to call him, which was Wilfred. The room had a door opening directly on the public corridor; and double doors in the right and left walls. Various officials of the Gore railroads strolled through from time to time; and Mr. Isaac Gore, the elder brother, was in the habit of making his escape through their room, when his own way out was blocked. Still, there was privacy of a kind, the room was so big. From his corner Wilfred could not hear what Mr. Gore might be saying in his corner; nor could Dobereiner from his.