He tramped out and down the stairway, and from the window Victor saw him whirl away in his automobile. "That man's a scoundrel and a slob," he said; "a greasy old slob. I will not have my mother sitting for such people. Can't I head him off somehow?" With sudden resolution he ran down the stairway and over to the telephone booth on the corner. He got the butler at once, and was deeply relieved to find that his mother was out with Mrs. Joyce. "He can't see her before I do," he concluded, as he hung up the receiver. "I'll go over there and wait for her to return." As he neared the house he met Leo coming out with some letters in her hand, and with the swift resiliency of youth, he asked if he might not walk with her. "Certainly," she said; "I want to talk with you about your plans." "I haven't any plans," he said. "What have you been doing this morning?" He hesitated a moment, then answered: "I've been mending that old table--I suppose you heard about my smashing it?" "Yes; and it seemed a very childish thing to do." "If you knew how I hate that business and everything connected with it!" "I do, and it seems absurd to me. Your mother's life is very wonderful and very beautiful to me." He changed the subject. "Did that man Pettus call just now?" "Yes." "He's a scoundrel--that chap. A four-flusher." "What makes you think that?" "Well, the very looks of the man." She laughed. "He isn't pretty, but he's a very decent citizen--and has a lovely wife and two daughters." "He's a slob--his face gives him away--and besides, Mr. Carew the other night--" "I know," she interrupted; "Mr. Carew is sure we're all going to be ruined by your mother and the Universal Transportation Company." "I hope you haven't put your money into anything Pettus has control of?" "Oh, don't let's talk business on a morning like this. It's criminal--let's talk about trees and birds and flowers." She might have added "and love," for when youth and springtime meet, even on a city boulevard, love is the most important subject in the encyclopedia of life. So they walked and talked and jested in the way of young men and maidens, and Victor talked of himself, finding his life-history vastly absorbing when discussed by a tall girl with a splendid profile and a cultivated voice. He watched her buy her stamps at the drug-store, finding in her every movement something adorable. The poise of her bust and her fine head appealed to him with power; but her humor, her cool, clear gaze, checked the crude compliments which he was moved to utter. She could not be addressed as he had been accustomed to address his girl classmates at Winona. This walk completed the severance of the ties which bound him to the university. His desire to return to his games weakened. His ambition to shine as an athlete faded. He wished to prove to this proud girl that he was neither boy nor dreamer, and that he was competent to take care of himself and his mother as well.