somehow aggrieved, and the feeling grew upon him the more he thought of
it. His mother had ruined his chance in life, and he could never hold up
his head again. Yes, he had heard that several of the fellows at the
club had shady reputations, but surely to be the son of a thief or a
supposed thief was not like being the criminal himself.

At the Banner he took a seat by himself, and, ordering a cocktail, sat
glowering at the few other lonely members who had happened to drop in.
There were not many of them, and the contagion of unsociability had
taken possession of the house. The people sat scattered around at
different tables, perfectly unmindful of the bartender, who cursed them
under his breath for not "getting together."

Joe's mind was filled with bitter thoughts. How long had he been away
from home? he asked himself. Nearly a year. Nearly a year passed in New
York, and he had come to be what he so much desired,--a part of its fast
life,--and now in a moment an old woman's stubbornness had destroyed all
that he had builded.

What would Thomas say when he heard it? What would the other fellows
think? And Hattie? It was plain that she would never notice him again.
He had no doubt but that the malice of Minty Brown would prompt her to
seek out all of his friends and make the story known. Why had he not
tried to placate her by disavowing sympathy with his mother? He would
have had no compunction about doing so, but he had thought of it too
late. He sat brooding over his trouble until the bartender called with
respectful sarcasm to ask if he wanted to lease the glass he had.

He gave back a silly laugh, gulped the rest of the liquor down, and was
ordering another when Sadness came in. He came up directly to Joe and