“You’re responsible, Madge. If you hadn’t given me an incentive, I’d still be blowing around western Massachusetts dodging traffic cops and breaking glass. You know that, don’t you, dear?” He reached his hands across the small table and covered her own. “Don’t, Gord! Not here!” “Don’t you, Madge?” “Don’t I what?” “Don’t you know it—that you’re responsible?” “Do you mean by that, if I were suddenly removed from your scheme of things you’d go all to pieces—back to the kind of chap you were a couple of years ago?” The man’s face fell. “Perhaps, Madelaine,” he said solemnly. “That’s weak, Gordon. You must play the man for the sake of playing the man, not because you want to court the favor of a certain woman.” “I hoped you’d take it as a compliment, Madge.” “I do take it as a compliment. But the responsibility isn’t reassuring. I don’t want to feel that I’m a man’s—goal. There’s so much worth while in the world as a goal beside the mere winning of a woman.” “Not when a fellow’s in love, Madge.” “Let’s not talk about love. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.” Gordon felt he was annoying her. He changed the subject. “All Springfield seems to be divided into two camps to-night,” he said. “Those who are college people and those who are not.” The remark was occasioned by the stream of people passing along the walk outside, at shoulder-height below them. Madelaine turned to watch the crowd. At the riot of hilarity from within the big dining room, many paused and smiled. Others appeared annoyed. Still others looked wistful. Notably among the latter was a young fellow who stood on the edge of the Worthington Street curbing and stared up into the dining room. He was a pale-faced, grim-jawed, plainly clothed chap with hungry eyes. Madelaine was conscious that he had been standing opposite their window, staring up for several minutes. “What’s that fellow doing?” demanded Gordon. “Is he staring at you and me—or merely trying to snitch a chunk of this room’s boisterousness free of charge?” “Poor fellow!” returned the girl. “He looks as though he belonged in here but for some reason knew that he’d be ejected if he tried to enter—and what a peculiar ear he has. Mercy, I wish he wouldn’t stare so! His expression will haunt me in sleep to-night.” “I’ll send some one out to tell him to move on!” “No! No! Don’t do that! Let’s just ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.” The waiter came with iced blue-points. When Madelaine next glanced sideways out the window, the fellow with the wistful face had gone away. II Nathan wandered the streets of Springfield’s business section and his heart was heavy within him. The college boys jostled him from the walks. The band music and the blaring horns hurt him. He lamented the coincidence which had brought him to Springfield on a day’s sales business while this alma-mater joviality was in progress. It mocked him with all of that youthful heritage of which he felt himself cheated.