"I want you to know them, too. You see, they're all rich people. And you've hated them without knowing what very ordinary human beings they really are. I think you owe it to your own sense of fairness to see some of the oppressors of the poor in the flesh." "It's quite impossible," he declared firmly. She chose to ignore the finality of his tone. "It isn't quite just, is it, to write articles about the feelings and the motives of people you don't really know?" He strove to divert the argument. "There's something in perspective, you know." "Before chance threw us together you thought me distinctly wicked. You don't think that now, do you?" "I told the paper I was in the camps of the Persians," he said sententiously. "They fired me then. Why tarry with the flesh-pots further?" "I've often heard you say that men couldn't preach heaven until they knew life." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "It isn't fair for a woman to be logical--it takes a man unawares." "Then you admit I am logical?" "Even if I wanted to stay, I couldn't." "Why not?" His head drooped and a faint colour showed under the bronze of his skin. But he remained silent. "What's lacking?" His discomfort was apparent. "I'd like to fix up a bit--get a hair-cut--and things," he stammered. "Well, why don't you? You've got two whole days." Suddenly he straightened, and a smile broke over his reddened features, "There's no use being silly about it, I guess. The fact is--I'm broke." "Oh, is that all. Well, that's easily fixed. Why didn't you say so before?" she said with a smile. "You ought to take lessons from my brother." "I don't need all this," he stammered, fingering the bill she held out to him. "It's the smallest I have. But why didn't you tell me?" "One doesn't like to beg." "You're hardly consistent, are you?" "No, I'm too human." "Will you be human enough to forsake your principles and come to my party?" "I'd rather not." "That's understood. It makes the favour greater. But you will come?" "If I must." "I'll be very grateful." "Then I will." The words came from him with such obvious reluctance that she could not resist a smile. "Do be back in plenty of time." "I'd rather break my leg again," he said gloomily. Then declining her offer of the motor-car to take him to the station, he left her. "You're stealing my class-consciousness from me," he called from the gate way. She laughed, not quite understanding what he meant, and watched his ungainly figure until it was out of sight. Would he return? Or had she seen the last of Brent Good? Finally she shrugged her shoulders and tried to dismiss him from her mind. But when Wednesday came, and no Good, nor word from him, she was more keenly disappointed than she cared to admit. The two o'clock train brought a party which had arranged for some golf with Roger. "Anyone come out with you?" she asked, as if the question were of no consequence.