She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the spirit--comprehension, generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment was George's forte. Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt that there were moments when George lived up to things too brightly and too beautifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly skeptical moments. But George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. He accepted his remarks with charming good humor. It was his pride that he could laugh at himself. At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her--a stare which said: "Now what the devil do you mean by that?" Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic hand. The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It was Betty. "Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" "Why," Genevieve responded, "I thought you were a working girl." There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. "Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George hasn't told me anything." "I've left the office." "Left! For heaven's sake, why?" Betty's mind worked swiftly. "Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before she answered. "Oh, trouble with the boss." "You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. "Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." "Not with George?" "Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." "Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. "Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a good thing he fired me." "_Fired_ you! George fired _you_?" "Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" "Yes--why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up the receiver and stared into space. George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his room. For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance he rivaled the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she wanted to know it badly. It was, "Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry equals use to one another the world over. Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's already sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, when you came down to it, the most awkward question in the world.