He was not satisfied with himself. His time for protest had been when he answered his father's challenge. The force against him had been too great, or his own strength too weak. He had not measured up to the moment, and this chagrined him. "All I wanted," he muttered, "was to KNOW!" His father called him, and he responded apathetically. "Here are some letters," said Mr. Foote. "I have made notes upon each one how it is to be answered. Be so good as to dictate the replies." There it was again. He was not even to answer letters independently, but to dictate to his secretary words put into his mouth by Bonbright Foote, Incorporated. "It will help you familiarize yourself with our routine," said his father, "and your signature will apprise the recipients that Bonbright Foote VII has entered the concern." He returned to his desk and pressed the buzzer that would summon Ruth Frazer with book and pencil. She entered almost instantly, and as their eyes met she smiled her famous smile. It was a thing of light and brightness, compelling response. In his mood it acted as a stimulant to Bonbright. "Thank you," he said, involuntarily. "For what?" she asked, raising her brows. "For--why, I'm sure I don't know," he said. "I don't know why I said that.... Will you take some letters, please?" He began dictating slowly, laboriously. It was a new work to him, and he went about it clumsily, stopping long between words to arrange his thoughts. His attention strayed. He leaned back in his chair, dictation forgotten for the moment, staring at Ruth Frazer without really being conscious of her presence. She waited patiently. Presently he leaned forward and addressed a question to her: "Did you and Mr. Dulac mention me as you walked home?" "Yes," she said. "Would it be--impertinent," he asked, "to inquire what you said?" She wrinkled her brows to aid recollection. "Mr. Dulac," she replied, "wondered what you were up to. That was how he expressed it. He thought it was peculiar--your asking to know him." "What did YOU think?" "I didn't think it was peculiar at all. You"--she hesitated--"had been taken sort of by surprise. Yes, that was it. And you wanted to KNOW. I think you acted very naturally." "Naturally!" he repeated after her. "Yes, I guess that must be where I went wrong. I was natural. It is not right to be natural. You should first find how you are expected to act--how it is planned for you to act. Yourself--why, yourself doesn't count." "What do you mean, Mr. Foote?" "This morning," he said, bitterly, "cards with my name signed to them have been placed, or will be placed, in every room of the works, notifying the men that if they join a labor union they will be discharged." "Why--why--" "I have made a statement that I am against labor unions." She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but somehow compelled to sympathize with him. He had passed through a bitter crisis of some sort, she perceived.