“That is precisely what you must do. I can understand your desire to remain close by your mother--she has an excuse for you, assistance, at every turn.” “That isn't the reason; it's... it's,” he boggled horribly, “a girl.” “Indeed,” his father remarked dryly. Anthony shrunk painfully from the unsympathetic voice of the elder. A new defiance of his father welled hotly within him, corrupting the bonds of discipline that had held him lovingly to his parent throughout the past. A chasm opened between them; and, when Anthony spoke again, it was with a voice of insipient insubordination. “It isn't the silly stuff you think,” he told the other; “I'm engaged!” “What on?” pithily came the inquiry. “Unfortunately I can't afford the luxury of a daughter-in-law. I thought you were something more of a man than to bring your wife into your mother's house.” “I sha'n't; we can get along until I... find work.” “Do you mean that your wife will support you?” “Not altogether; she will help until--until--” he stopped miserably before the anger confronting him in the other's gaze: it was useless to explain, he thought; But if his father laughed at him, at his love, he would leave the room and never see him again. “I can't see why money is so damned holy!” he broke out; “why it matters so infernally where it comes from; it seems to me only a dirty detail.” “It is the measure of a man's honor,” the elder Ball told him inexorably; “how it is made or got stamps you in the world. I am surprised to hear that you would even consider taking it from a woman, surprised and hurt. It shows all the more clearly the necessity for your going at once into a hard, healthy existence. Your mother will get you ready; a couple of days should do it.” “... all unexpected,” Anthony muttered; “I must think about it, see some one. I'll--I'll talk to you to-morrow. That's it,” he enunciated more hopefully, “to-morrow--” “Entirely unnecessary,” his father interrupted, “nothing to be gained by delay or further talk. The thing's arranged.” “I think I won't go,” Anthony told him slowly. The other picked up the paper, smoothing out the creases. “Very well,” he replied; “I dare say your mother will do something for you.--Women are the natural source of supplies for the sort of person you seem at the point of becoming.” A barrier of paper, covered with print in regular columns, shut one from the other.