Naturally, Wallie was not comforted by his conversation with Pinkey. Now he knew himself to have been insulted, and resented it, but along with his indignation was such a feeling of dissatisfaction with his life as he had never known. His brow contracted while he thought of the monotony of it. Just as this summer would be a duplicate of every other summer so the winter would be a repetition of the many winters he had spent in Florida with Aunt Mary. After a few months at home they would migrate with the robins. He would meet the same people he had seen all summer. They would complain of the Southern cooking and knit and tat while they babbled amiably of themselves and the members of their family and their doings. The men would smoke and compare business experiences when they had finished flaying the Administration. Discontent grew within him as he reviewed it. Why couldn't he and Aunt Mary do something different for the winter? By George! he would suggest it to her! He got up with alacrity, cheerful immediately. She was not on the veranda and Miss Eyester was of the opinion that she had gone to her room to take her tonic. "I have turned the shoulder, Wallie." Mrs. Appel held up the sweater triumphantly. "That's good," said Wallie, feeling uncomfortable with Miss Spenceley within hearing. "Wallie," Mrs. Stott called to him, "will you give me the address of that milliner whose hats you said you liked particularly? Somewhere on Walnut, wasn't it?" "Sixteenth and Walnut," Wallie replied, shortly. "What do you think I'm doing, Wallie?" "I can't imagine, Mrs. Budlong." "I'm rolling!" "Rolling?" "To reduce. C. D. says I look like a cement-mixer in action." Wallie was annoyed by the confidence. Miss Gaskett beckoned him. "Have you seen Cutie, Wallie?" "No," curtly. "When I called her this morning she looked at me with eyes like saucers and simply _tore_ into the bushes. Do you suppose anybody has abused her?" Mr. Cone, who was standing in the doorway, went back to his desk hastily. "I'm not in her confidence," said Wallie with so much sarcasm that they all looked at him. Miss Spenceley was talking to Mr. Appel, who was listening so attentively that Wallie wondered what she was saying. They were sitting close to the window of the reception room and it occurred to Wallie that there would be no harm in stepping inside and gratifying his curiosity. The conversation was not of a private nature and in other circumstances he would have joined them, so, on his way to the elevator to find his aunt, he paused a moment to hear what the girl was saying. Since she was speaking emphatically and a lace curtain was the only barrier, Wallie found out without difficulty: "I have no use for a squaw-man." "You mean," Mr. Appel interrogated, "a white man who marries an Indian woman?"