"Fine--great idea! I'll do that. Only I'll have to write it out
of business hours. It will be extra work."

"Never mind, you do it; and," she added, as he put her on the
cable car, "keep your mind on that thirty-thousand-word story of
adventure. Good-by, Condy; haven't we had the jolliest day that
ever was?"

"Couldn't have been better. Good-by, Blix."

Condy returned to his club., It was about six o'clock. In response
to his question, the hall-boy told him that Tracy Sargeant had
arrived a few moments previous, and had been asking for him.

The Saturday of the week before, Condy had made an engagement with
young Sargeant to have supper together that night, and perhaps go
to the theatre afterward. And now at the sight of Sargeant in the
"round window" of the main room, buried in the file of the "Gil
Blas," Condy was pleased to note that neither of them had
forgotten the matter.

Sargeant greeted him with extreme cordiality as he came up, and at
once proposed a drink. Sargeant was a sleek, well-groomed, well-
looking fellow of thirty, just beginning to show the effects of a
certain amount of dissipation in the little puffs under the eyes
and the faint blueness of the temples. The sudden death of his
father for which event Sargeant was still mourning, had left him
in such position that his monthly income was about five times as
large as Condy's salary. The two had supper together, and
Sargeant proposed the theatre.