Mr. Petersen came home one day at noon, and found no trace of lunch. Addie was not in the kitchen, nor Minnie. The latter he could always trace by means of his son’s voice, and he went up to the bedroom, to find her lying on the bed, exhausted, sobbing, while Addie bathed her forehead with cold water while she dandled the baby. “Well, well!” he asked. “What’s wrong now?” “He _will_ enlist!” cried Minnie wildly. “You’ve got to stop him! I won’t have it. I’ll die!” “Pshaw!” said Mr. Petersen mildly. “This won’t do!” He was a little annoyed. “You must let a man do as he thinks right,” he said. “Right!” cried Minnie. “He’s not thinking of that! He wants to get away---- He’s made up his mind to get away from _me_!” “Come, come! This isn’t very sensible, my dear!” “Neither are you!” she answered, unexpectedly. “You’re the biggest fool in the world, Christian Petersen!” And began to laugh. In the course of time she was calmed, and Mr. Petersen went downstairs to look for a bite to eat. He discovered Alec in the kitchen with Sandra, boiling eggs. “Minnie been at you?” he asked. Mr. Petersen admitted that she had. “She’ll have to get over it, that’s all,” said Alec. “I’m going! About Sandra--I’ve got something ... a small income.... It isn’t clear now; I’ve drawn against it for some time to come ... but what there is, is for her. I.... You’ll look out for her, won’t you, in case I----? She’s--Minnie doesn’t altogether understand her. Not so well as you do.” “I’ll do my best,” said Mr. Petersen, who was too kindly even to hint that he didn’t need to be shown his duty toward Sandra by this poor failure. “You’ve really made up your mind then?” “All the mind she’s left in me!” he answered with sudden passion. “Good God! What does the woman want! She wants to own a man, body and soul. Wants me to hang about here a disgraced, ruined man, not even _trying_ to--stand alone---- The most disgusting, despicable object under the sun--so that she won’t be separated from me. Good God! If I’d ever thought I’d come to this, Petersen ...!” “Now then, my boy,” said Mr. Petersen gently, “don’t blame your sister too harshly. She’s too much a woman to understand these things. And don’t be bitter. You’re a young man yet. You can----” “No!” said Alec, “It’s too late. You’ve only to look at me to see I’m done for. In every way. Physical as well as--moral. No good. Rotten all the way through. My only chance is to get into the army. If _they_ won’t have me, I’m finished.” He was so obviously excited that Mr. Petersen did not remonstrate. “If I can help you,” he said, “with your outfit, for instance, let me know. I’d be very glad. Or ... if you need ready money----?” Alec looked at him sombrely.