A curious expression came into the weary eyes. “Straighter,” he said. “That’s your doing, Marcia.” “How mine?” “It’s rather complicated and long. I don’t know that you’d understand.” “Make me understand.” “Give me time. This has been--well, startling. I think I’m a little dazzled and--and dizzy.” And, indeed, Marcia Ames, as she stood there beneath the hard, revealing light of the overhead arc, was a vision to dazzle any man, and, taken on an empty heart, to make him dizzy. The years had fulfilled her; had added splendor to her compelling beauty without withdrawing that almost fantastically delicate and elusive challenge of youth. She seated herself, and Jem took his accustomed position behind the editorial table. “That is well,” she said lightly. “Is that how you receive callers on business?” “Yes.” “Very well. I have come on business.” “Where did you come from? I can’t quite believe it’s really you--here!” “From Chicago. Buddy brought me.” “Buddy Higman?” “He came after me. He told me that you were in great trouble.” “He told you that I was going to desert the ship.” “Oh, no! Buddy is your loyal subject. The Boss can do no wrong.” “The Boss has reached the point where he is n’t sure what’s wrong and what’s right.” “I am not afraid of that.” There was an implication of pride and of proprietorship in the words which shook Jem’s hard hold upon himself. “Were you coming here, anyway?” “Later.” “Then I should have seen you.” He seemed to be puzzling out some inner problem. “I had thought you would have been in the army.” “So I should, if I had n’t been told that I’m a useless bit of wreckage.” “Please! I know all about it. I have seen Mr. Galpin. Your war is here. If you had decided otherwise than you did I should--I should--” “You’re trying to make it easy for me,” he accused. “I should have come back to find another Jem from the one I have learned to believe in.” “To believe in, Marcia? How’s that?” “‘Seein’ ’s believin’,”’ she laughed. “I once heard Buddy’s aunt give out that word of wisdom. I have been seeing The Guardian and reading it, and reading you in it, ever since the war.” “More than me. Galpin and Cassius Kimball; yes, and old Eli Wade, and others that have helped keep me straight. We haven’t always gone straight, Marcia. There have been issues of The Guardian that I’d hate to have you see.” “But I have seen them. All.” “And you did n’t lose faith?” “I never lost hope that--that you would be what I wanted you to be. Jem, Mr. Galpin says that the paper is losing.” “It is.” “Can you go on?” “For a while?” “Could you go on if you had more money?” “For a while longer. There’d be a chance of our pulling through. But only a chance.” “Will you take mine?” “Great God! _No!_” “Why not?” “I tell you, it’s almost sure loss. There’s a new paper coming into the field--” “You said just now that it was my doing that you--you stood straighter than you used. Did you mean The Guardian?”