'What was that, Henry?' 'I said, “Yes, we're engaged.”' 'O--o--oh, Henry, I'm so glad!' 'Don't say anything about it, Martha.' 'Oh, of _course_ not!... You've no idea how nice people are being to me. They're giving me a party to-night, down on the South Side. We're coming back to-morrow.' Mr Merchant met her in the Chicago depot. Henry had excused himself before Mrs Ames and Mary got up. He would have hurried off into the grimy city, but the crowd held him back. Martha saw him and dragged the rich and important man of her choice toward him. Henry thought him very old, and not particularly goodlooking. He was a stocky, sandy-complexioned man; dressed now, as always, in brown, even to a brown hat. He looked strong enough--Henry knew that he played polo, and that sort of thing--but gossip put him at thirty-eight. He certainly couldn't be under thirty-five. Henry wondered how Martha could... Then he found himself taking the man's hand and listening to more of the familiar praise. But on this occasion it had, he felt, a condescension, a touch of patronage, that irritated him. 'I'd like to talk with you, Calverly. There's a chance that--I'll tell you! I may be able to arrange it this evening. They're not letting me come to the party. Got to do something. I'll try it. Come around to my place between eight and half-past, and I'll explain more fully. There's a classmate of mine in town that can help us, maybe. You'll do that? Good! I'll expect you.' He was gone. Slowly, moodily, Henry wandered through the station and up the long stairway to the street. He felt deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't this Mr Merchant, though he wished he had known how to show his resentment of the man's offhand manner. But he hadn't known; he wouldn't again; before age and experience he was helpless. No, his trouble lay deeper. He shouldn't have told Martha that he was engaged. Why had he done such a thing? What on earth had he meant by it? It was a rather dreadful break. He paused on the Wells Street bridge; hung over the dirty wooden railing; watched a tug come through the opaque, sluggish water, pouring out its inevitable black smoke, a great rolling cloud of it, that set him coughing. He perversely welcomed it. Cicely expected him in the evening. He would have to drop in on his way to Mr Merchant's. Could he tell her what he had done? Dared he tell her? Martha and the Ameses would be gone overnight. That was something. And people didn't get up early after parties. At least, girls didn't. It would be afternoon before they would reappear in Sunbury. Say twenty-four hours. But immediately after that, certainly by evening, all Sunbury would have the news that the popular Cicely Hamlin was engaged. To young Henry Calverly. The telephone would ring. Congratulations would be pouring in.