"The end will come in the opening of another phase of national life. We will become honest through the purifying process of another generation. Honesty, you see, has this one great advantage over corruption—it is the goal of corruption. Those who acquire, wish to retain, to resist those who in turn wish to graft from them. Stealing was an attribute of distinction, until men came to live together. The next generation will purify and reorganize." "I didn’t know you’d gone into things so deeply," said Beecher, impressed. "I’ve worked like a pup since I started to amuse myself," said Gunther, with a laugh. The automobile drew up before the glittering doors of Lazare’s, and a gilded footman, recognizing it, flashed obsequiously to their door. "Say, let’s cut this out," said Gunther, frowning. "I’m out of the mood now. Let’s run off for a chop and a baked potato somewhere. I’m tired of this." "Too late," said Beecher, laughing and pointing to an upper window where a feminine arm was waving frantically. "We’re caught." Then, suddenly he remembered the hint of McKenna’s, and added: "I say, what’s the story about Majendie and Mrs. Bloodgood? I’m not up on the gossip, you know." Gunther signaled impatiently to the flunky to close the door, and related, what every one knew, the attachment of the financier and the wife of the owner of the New York _Star_. "Of course, every one believes what he chooses in such matters," he said. "Personally, knowing Majendie, I believe it’s purely platonic—such things do happen. He has a sort of old-fashioned chivalry, you know. Bloodgood is a hard old nut, leads his own life—chorus girls’ friend and all that—thirty years older than his wife—parents got her into it—and I shouldn’t be surprised if he took advantage of the situation to touch up Majendie through the Atlantic Trust for a good-sized loan. The rumor was that Mrs. Bloodgood was to get a divorce. If so, it may have been held up by this rotten business. One thing’s clear: she’s crazy about Majendie, and doesn’t care who sees it—poor devil. Well, let’s get out." They entered Lazare’s, saluted by a sudden storm of clatter, music, and shrill laughter. Lazare himself, seeing Gunther, came up hurriedly, anxiety in his olive face, while several employees hovered near, with eager ears. Gunther exchanged again a few words on the financial situation, and led the way into the elevator. "McKenna’s a great one," he said. "Rather puzzled you, didn’t he? There’s no show about him—he’s direct. You’ll see the way he works. It’ll be a revelation." Beecher did not answer.