'--And I asked for ten a week. Would he give it? No! I knew I was worth more than that, so I offered to take space rates instead. Then what does he do? You know, Hump. Been clipping me off, one thing after another, and piling on the proof and the office work. Here's one thing more gone to-day. Last week my string was exactly seven dollars and forty-six cents. Dam it, it ain't fair! I can't _live!_ I won't stand it. Gotta be ten a week or I--I'll find out why. Show-down.' He rushed to the door. Then, as if his little flare of indignation had burnt out, fingered there, knitting his brows and looking up and down the street and across at the long veranda of the Sunbury House, where people sat in a row in yellow rocking chairs. Humphrey smoked and considered him. After a little he remarked quietly:-- 'Look here, Hen, I don't like it any more than you do. I've seen what he was doing. I've tried to forestall him once or twice----' 'I know it, Hump.' Henry turned. He was quite listless now. 'He's a tricky old fox. If I only knew of something else I could do--or that we could do together----' 'But--this was what I was going to say--no matter how we feel, I'm going to be really in trouble if I don't get that picnic story pretty soon. Mr Boice asked about it this morning.' Henry leaned against Mr Boice's desk, up by the window; dropped his chin into one hand. 'I'll do it, Hump. This afternoon. Or to-night. We're going down to Mildred's this noon, of course.' 'That's part of what's bothering me. God knows how soon after that you'll break away from Corinne.' 'Pretty dam soon,' remarked Henry sullenly, 'the way things are going now.... I'll get at it, Hump. Honest I will. But right now'--he moved a hand weakly through the air--'I just couldn't. You don't know how I feel. I _couldn't!_' 'Where you going now?' 'I don't know.' The hand moved again. 'Walk around. Gotta be by myself. Sorta think it out. This is one of the days... I've been thinking--be twenty-one in November. _Then_ I'll show him, and all the rest of 'em. Have a little money then. I'll show this hypocritical old town a few things--a few things....' His voice died to a mumble. He felt with limp fingers at his moustache. 'I'll be ready quarter or twenty minutes past twelve,' Humphrey called after him as he moved mournfully out to the street. 3 Mr Boice moved heavily along, inclining his massive head, without a smile, to this acquaintance and that, and turned in at Schultz and Schwartz's.