think twice before he did anything "foolish." "In any event," he
implored, "let me get you some breakfast, or at least, a cup of
coffee."

In the end he helped Graydon into his coat and glided off down Wells
Street after him. It was seven o'clock, and every corner newsstand
glowered back at them with black frowns as they looked at the
piles of papers. Two rough-looking men walking ahead of them were
discussing the sensation in a lewd, brutal way. A saloon-keeper
shouted to them: "It don't always happen over on de West Side, does
it?"

Graydon went to the office of Clegg, Groll & Davidson early and
arranged his affairs so that they could be taken up at once by
another; and then, avoiding his fellow-workers as much as possible,
presented himself to Mr. Clegg at ten o'clock. Without hesitation
he announced his intention to give up his place in the office. All
argument put forth by his old friend and employer went for naught.
The cause of his action was not discussed, but it was understood.

"If you ever want to come back to us, Graydon, we will welcome you
with open arms. It isn't as bad as you think."

"You don't understand, Mr. Clegg," was all that Graydon could say.

Then he hurried off to face his father.

James Bansemer, haggard from loss of sleep and from fury over the
alienation of his son, together with the fear of what the day might
bring, was pacing the floor of his private office. Droom had eased