First and foremost, he is a very caustic and live person. He is married, possessed of children belonging to the species _enfants terribles_. He lives in a rather expensive house in Zenith, a city as famous to-day as Tarascon or the kingdom of Poictesme. He is very concrete and very individualistic. On the other hand, taken as a general type, he may be called _Monsieur tout-le-monde_. He is the man of the crowds. Sinclair Lewis has gathered with a stroke of genius, and incarnated in him, all the gestures, all the poses, all the hobbies, all the colloquialisms of the average American. He likes to work and do business on a large scale. He is fond of his home, fond of living in it, and fond of leaving it too, once in a while. There is a dormant romanticism in him, but it is harmless and unheroic. When Tartarin de Tarascon had the blues, he went to hunt the lions in the suburbs of Algiers. The call-of-the-wild takes George Babbitt away for fishing parties into the wilds of Maine. He loves his wife, he loves his children, but, oftentimes, civilization bores him and he would rather love something else. He is a realtor by profession, neither more nor less honest than his colleagues. For him, as for most of us, “business is simply other people’s money,” as the French playwright puts it. And George knows how to make money. He has his flirtations and perhaps his passions. The imprisonment of a friend who killed his wife hit a serious blow at his optimism, but his good humor survived. Finally, like Carol, he makes an edifying end and returns to the fold, wishing for his son a more cheerful world to live in.