“I brought him west with me. He’s in Santa Monica now, so I’ll have to hurry back. You’ll come?” “To Santa Monica?” “Yes.” “Shall we get a motor car?” “No. The interurban. I’ll show you.” “Is there a place to stop down there?” “Oh, yes, I’ll show you.” “My steamer trunk can wait here for a day or two. I’d better get my small bags----” “Yes.” He unchecked them.... In the city car to the interurban station, she said: “Oh, Dicky, it’s so good.” Then after a pause, she added: “We don’t need to talk about ourselves.” “I understand.” “It’s days before your ship?” “Yes.” “I can show you around. It’s hard for me not to be troubled about _The Public Square_----” “Everything’s all right there. I’ll tell you everything when we get on the other car. You’ll like it all.” “And must you really go to India?” “I arranged with Nagar, before I left. It’s the story of the age, he says. After that----” “Yes?” “After that--New York.” They were in the Santa Monica car, on the way down to the ocean. She had shown him Hollywood, pointing out some of the moving-picture plants.... If he could only keep calm now--and not rush out to seize the incredible little attractions of the moment! It seemed so important to keep calm right now--as if this were a sort of trial trip. He must be able to move right into this light without flinching--must endure all delight in stillness. It wasn’t like repression--this that was called of him now, but faith. The wonder of it all was her perfect fearlessness with him. Their old word came back to him--_comrade_. He almost spoke it, but stopped in time. He must live it. But why all this holding back--after years of holding back? “... So he won’t be coming back, I’m afraid,” he was saying of John Higgins. “He understands that his desk is there for him as long as he wants it, but he doesn’t encourage any one to believe he’ll use it again. I told him he could do Washington, and leave Bert Ames on the desk for the present, but he only shook his head.” “I saw it coming,” said Pidge. “Oh, I’ve seen it for a long time. There was never anything I could do to help him. I never can really help when I want to.” He felt she was thinking of Melton. She was, but she was thinking of Fanny Gallup, too. “He has no relatives,” Dicky went on, “but it’s arranged for his income to keep up; anything he wants to do for the magazine----” He saw her look of sadness. “John Higgins is so helpless,” she said softly. “We’ve taken on young Bothwell for the advertising, and given him a little fund to work with,” Dicky reported. “Bothwell isn’t a plunger, steady sort of genius in his game. The idea isn’t to plunge in any department--just to work softly and slowly and steadily, giving everybody his money’s worth. Also, if a story or article just suits, we mustn’t let the price stand in the way any longer.” She nodded wonderingly. “Bert Ames has two or three good ideas to work out at the desk before he leaves for Washington.”