Again, he would become unreasonably exasperated when she insisted upon asking what meat he would prefer for dinner, when she had him to shop with her. "Mm-hmm, it's a lovely steak," he would agree abstractedly. "Yes, I like ham, too.... Or a roast. Darling, I don't care. Get anything." She felt aggrieved at his callousness upon the momentous topic. Upon other matters connected with eating he was not so unopinionated. "Just look here, Jane! Lily's douched the potatoes in fat again. You know that fried starch----" "Yes, dear, I know ... by now. You needn't eat any; she'll bring some mashed ones for you." He grinned surlily. "I'll try a few, Jane; I like them, though they're not good for me.... Another spoonful, please." The country club was another viand of contention. Jane had never enjoyed the inconsequential chatter and watery flirtations that were its chief offer; Pelham found in them a forgetfulness from strike worries and the increasing financial problem. The week after their sight of Canopus, he announced a determination to drop by for tennis with Lane Cullom, and the dinner afterwards. "You may see Hollis; it's his spring holiday," his wife observed without inflection. "I saw he was back. I don't mind, if he doesn't.... Sure you don't want to come? For dinner, or afterwards for a few minutes?" "Dances are so boring, Pell." "Once in a while I like 'em." "I'll go next week, if you go then.... Don't make a scene with Hollis." He jerked with needless viciousness at his belt. "Why make such an assumption? I'm not going to make a scene." Her pen scratched raspingly over the businesslike letter-heads of the State Suffrage Association. "You almost had a fight with John Birrell, at the bowling tournament." "You exaggerate everything, Jane. There was nothing like it----" "You told me----" "I told you, very plainly, that there would have been a fight, if we hadn't held in our tempers. He's a decent fellow; he's still sore about my mining report. The State is again investigating them." She did not look up. "Good-night, dear," planting an indecisive kiss on her hair. "Good-night." Probably Hollis would be in uniform, he reflected. The boy hadn't lost any time in joining the Yale Battery, when the President's initial break with Germany foreshadowed war. Just after dinner, his brother Ned charged up. "Hell-o, Pell! Didn't expect to see me, did you? Father let me come, because Hollis was here." "Aren't we the young sport!" "There he is--Hey, Hollis! Here's Pell!" The brother, fine-looking in his well-pressed khaki, came over unhurriedly. "Hello, Pelham. How you making out?" "Oh, all right. I'm working for the United Charities, you know--Labor Legislation Committee." "Still fooling with that socialist crew?" "I'm still a member of the party, Hollis." "You aren't a foreigner; why don't you get out?" Pelham's eyes snapped. "Why not learn something about the movement, before you pass judgment on it?"