George laughed shortly, shook his head, and hurried upstairs to Lambert's room; yet Mrs. Bailly had increased his uneasiness. Perhaps it was the too-frequent repetition of that question that had made Sylvia turn temporarily to Blodgett; that was, possibly, focussing her eyes on Dalrymple now; yet why, from such a field, did she choose these men? What was one to make of her mind and its unexpected reactions? The matter of marriage was, not unnaturally, in the air here. Lambert faced him with it. "Josiah's right. When are you going to make a home, Apollo Morton?" George turned on him angrily, not bothering to choose his words. "Such a question from you is ridiculous. You've not forgotten the dark ages either." Lambert looked at him for a moment affectionately, not without sympathy. "Don't be an ass, George." George's laughter was impatient. "Don't forget, Lambert, your old friends, Corporal Sol Roseberg, and Bugler Ignatius Chronos. No men better! Chairs at the club! Legs under the table at Oakmont----" Lambert put his hands on George's shoulders. "It isn't that at all. You know it very well." "What is it then?" George asked, sharply. "Don't pretend ignorance," Lambert answered, "and it must be your own fault. Whose else could it possibly be? And I'm sorry, have been for years." "It isn't my fault," George said. "The situation exists. I'm glad you recognize it. You'll understand it's a subject I can't let you joke about." "All right," Lambert said, "but I wonder why you're always asking for trouble." VIII Betty had plenty of colour to-night. As she passed George, her head bent against the confetti, he managed to touch her hand, felt a quick responsive pressure, heard her say: "Good-bye, George." The whispered farewell was like a curtain, too heavy ever to be lifted again, abruptly let down between two fond people. IX Unexpectedly the companionships of the little house in Dickinson Street failed to lighten George's discontented humour. Mrs. Bailly's question lingered in his mind, coupling itself there with her disappointment that he, instead of Lambert, hadn't married Betty; and, when she retired, the tutor went back to his unwelcome demands of the day before. Hadn't George made anything of his great experience? Was it possible it had left him quite unchanged? What were his immediate plans, anyway? "You may as well understand, sir," George broke in, impatiently, "that I am going to stay right in Wall Street and make as much money and get as much power as I can." "Why? In the name of heaven, why?" Bailly asked, irritably. "You are already a very rich man. You've dug for treasure and found it, but can you tell me you've kept your hands clean? Money is merely a conception--a false one. Capitalism will pass from the world." George grunted. "With the last two surviving human beings." "Mockery won't keep you blind always," Bailly said, "to the strivings of men in the mines and the factories----"