Wright had said nothing about the Glenmore or Graves, however, and Jackson had not gone into his story very far. But the older man had heard, it is true, something here and there, from this man and that, over the lunch table at his club, from one or two men in his office. And he had imagination enough to picture the whole story. "I told him I was thinking of going somewhere else," Jackson continued slowly. "What did he say?" "Oh, a good many things,--he's a pretty human fellow,--looks at many sides of a matter. Well, in the end he offered me a place with him! Not the old thing,--he's got some new men in, and can't put any one ahead of them. I guess he would have to make a place!" She leaned forward, repressing the question that rose swiftly to her lips. But after a few moments, Jackson answered it slowly. "I told him that I would like to think it over for a day or two." She refrained still from questioning him, and they strolled on slowly into the park. There on the benches facing the lake sat many couples, crowded close together, resting after the warm day's work. Along the stone embankment outside the glare of the arc lights the lake heaved in an oily calm without a ripple, and from the dark surface of the water rose a current of cold air. The architect and his wife turned back instinctively into the empty darkness of the boulevard. "It's pretty good of the old boy to be willing to take back a man who's been on his knees," Jackson mused, breaking the long silence in which they had walked. "Don't!" she murmured. "That hurts--don't think that!" "Suppose we try it, Nell," he said quickly. "I know you would like to have me--and perhaps it is best." "But you mustn't do it just for my sake!" "I think you are rather fussy!" he retorted. "Why else should I do it, my dear, dear wife?" "But you might regret it, then! You must be sure,--not do it just to please me, but because you see things as I do, and know that it's the only way for us to live and have peace."