through her soft hair, he saw in her a purity that was almost
radiant.

He was in arms at once a night or two before Dick had invited
Elizabeth to go to the theater when Margaret Wheeler said:

"The house was gayer when Nina was at home."

"Yes. And you were pretty sick of it. Full of roistering young
idiots. Piano and phonograph going at once, pairs of gigglers in
the pantry at the refrigerator, pairs on the stairs and on the
verandah, cigar-ashes--my cigars--and cigarettes over everything,
and more infernal spooning going on than I've ever seen in my life."

He had resumed his newspaper, to put it down almost at once.

"What's that Sayre boy hanging around for?"

"I think he's in love with her, Walter."

"Love? Any of the Sayre tribe? Jim Sayre drank himself to death,
and this boy is like him. And Jim Sayre wasn't faithful to his wife.
This boy is--well, he's an heir. That's why he was begotten."

Margaret Wheeler stared at him.

"Why, Walter!" she said. "He's a nice boy, and he's a gentleman."

"Why? Because he gets up when you come into the room? Why in
heaven's name don't you encourage real men to come here? There's