"He finished off with a perfect bomb, Joey. It was funny! Of course the new man's a city product, and he drew him to the life: rushed and tortured by ambition, tired out at the end of the day, too tired to be possibly amusing, his nerves excited till anything quieter than lower Broadway hurts his ears, all passion and brilliance spent on business, dinners here and there, with people who all have their ax to grind, too, and are keyed up to it by rows and rows of cocktails. He drew him without mercy, and he had every wife there either wincing or laughing, with the truth of what he said. He was quite eloquent." She paused, she laughed softly, she turned her eyes upon him. "Then, Joey, guess--just guess!--what he said!" "Far be it from me!" "He said that any intelligent modern woman would require at least one husband and three lovers to arrive at the standards and companionship of one wholesome old-fashioned man!" Cameron got to his feet and held to the top shelf of the bookcase. "Do you mean to tell me that respectable women sit and listen to such talk?" "But, Joey dear, you see so little of us respectable women now, you don't really know us--" "It's not decent--" Nelly was all patience. "But, you know, Joey dear, I think maybe it is true. Don't you think so?" Cameron swallowed two or three retorts; then with a laugh that seemed to break to pieces in the air, he went into he hall, got into his hat and coat, and left the house. Nellie listened gravely. "Poor dear old land-lubber!" she sighed. "But it had to come sooner or later!" Then she went to the telephone. "57900 Bryant, please. May I speak to Mr. Crane?" II When Cameron came in at midnight he found his wife and his old friend Willoughby Crane playing chess in the dining room. "Hello, Joe, old man," murmured Crane. "That you?" "Why, yes, I believe it is I," said Cameron. "Almost forgot what you looked like," Crane rambled pleasantly. "Dropped in for a reminder." "I'm sorry to have missed you," muttered Cameron. "Well, you haven't altogether missed me, you know: so cheer up, old man. If Nell's good for a rubber, you may have the joy of my presence for an hour or two longer. You're lucky, having a wife who can play chess!" "Get yourself a drink, Joey," suggested Nellie. "The whisky's in the sideboard, down on he left." "Don't you suppose I know where the whisky is?" demanded Cameron. "Maybe there's not much left." Nellie looked on, all solicitude. Cameron, his thought babbling over the good old days of the ducking-stool, poured himself carefully a highball that was brown. Silence reigned. The light fell upon the head and shoulders of Crane and his long, quick-fingered hands. "After a man has slaved his soul out," Cameron moaned, "these are the things a woman cares about!"