Ezra P. Hipps, hugging one knee, sat upon the centre table and he was looking at Auriole Craven with much the same expression as might be seen on the face of a slave buyer in an African market. He had passed her shoes, appreciated her stockings, nodded approval at her gown and millinery and was now observing with satisfaction that the gloves which she was peeling off revealed two arms of perfect proportion. "That guy," he proceeded, "has got to be made to talk. Looks like. He's made fools of us too long. Looks like," he threw a glance at Laurence, "your durn psychology isn't worth a hill o' beans." "We haven't given it a chance yet," said Laurence in defence of his method. "Seventeen days," grunted Van Diest. "And no progress--nothing. This was not an ordinary man." "Am I to see him today?" asked Auriole. Hipps shook his head and the girl brightened perceptibly. "Seems to please you." "No, it doesn't. I'll go up if you want me to--only----" "Get on with it." "I can't help thinking it's a mistake. Can't help thinking that somehow that minute I spend with him every day strengthens rather than breaks him down." "Guess you're right--it would me," Hipps agreed. There was a shade of gallantry in the tone. "I take leave to doubt that," said Laurence. "I'm positively sure that if a man is feeling the pinch all day long and everybody he comes in contact with is definitely against him, a momentary glimpse of someone who is seemingly sympathetic is far more likely to weaken his resolve than strengthen it. It makes him relax and even though you relax only a trifle it's the very deuce to get a grip on yourself again. You can see it when chaps are training--that extra cigarette--the whiskey and soda that isn't allowed plays the devil with their constitution. I know when I was at----" He stopped for Auriole's large eyes were looking at him critically. "What is it?" he asked. "Nothing," she replied. "Nothing." Then to everyone's amazement burst out: "What a mean rotter you are, though." "Here----" he began. "I honestly believe you enjoy all this beastliness." "Enjoy? My dear girl, do be sensible. Damn it, no one enjoys having to put on the screw. It's a case of necessity." "Yes, yes, I suppose it is," she acquiesced hurriedly in an effort to regain her composure. "Only it seemed to me--but never mind." Ezra P. Hipps crossed the room and put a hand on her arm. "Come on, dear. What's the trouble?" "I wouldn't mind," she returned, "if he weren't so--so desperately plucky." "Hm!" said Van Diest. "I think it was a goot idea that you don't go to see this young man any more." "That's nonsense," she replied hotly. "I'll see him. Besides he's used to my coming and if I didn't turn up he----" "Disappointed," suggested Hipps.