At the end of the first block both were obliged to battle against the wind, which now drove the rain in furious gusts through the intersecting streets. In grasping his hat, Mills dropped his stick, and after picking it up, Bruce took hold of his arm for their greater ease in keeping together. It would, he decided, be an ungenerous desertion to leave him now, and so they arrived after much buffeting at Mills’s door. “That’s a young hurricane,” said Mills as he let himself in. “When you’ve dried out a bit I’ll send you on in my car.” In response to his ring a manservant appeared and carried away their hats and overcoats to be dried. Mills at once led the way upstairs to the library, where a fire had been kindled, probably against the master’s return in the storm. “Sit close and put your feet to the blaze. I think a hot drink would be a help.” Hot water and Scotch were brought and Mills laughingly assured Bruce that he needn’t be afraid of the liquor. “I had it long before Prohibition. Of course, everybody has to say that!” In his wildest speculations as to possible meetings with his father, Bruce had imagined nothing like this. He was not only in Franklin Mills’s house, but the man was graciously ministering to his comfort. And Bruce, with every desire to resist, to refuse these courteous offices, was meekly submitting. Mills, talking easily, with legs stretched to the fire, sipped his drink contentedly while the storm beat with mounting fury round the house. “I think my son said you had been in the army; I should say that the experience hadn’t done you any harm,” Mills remarked in his pleasant voice. “Quite the contrary, sir. The knocking about I got did me good.” “I envy you young fellows the experience; it was a ghastly business, but it must mean a lot in a man’s life to have gone through it.” In response to a direct question Bruce stated concisely the nature of his service. His colorless recital of the bare record brought a smile to Mills’s face. “You’re like all the young fellows I’ve talked with--modest, even a little indifferent about it. I think if I’d been over there I should do some bragging!” Still bewildered to find himself at Mills’s fireside, Bruce was wondering how soon he could leave; but Mills talked on in leisurely fashion of the phenomenal growth of the town and the opportunities it offered to young men. Bruce was ashamed of himself for not being more responsive; but Mills seemed content to ramble on, though carefully attentive to the occasional remarks Bruce roused himself to make. Bruce, with ample opportunity, observed Mills’s ways--little tricks of speech, the manner in which he smoked--lazily blowing rings at intervals and watching them waver and break--an occasional quick lifting of his well-kept hand to his forehead.