All unused to social intrigue, Clayton ignored the possible effect
of his further presence in Worthington's household as an attractive
young man when little Alice, at a bound, passed through the gates
of girlhood and became the beautiful Miss Worthington. He had
never seen the angel at his side, and yet Ferris, clearer eyed,
had conquered in silent craft a golden future.

Clayton lingered at his table in the Grand Union cafe long after the
waiter had removed his half-tasted dinner. He ordered an unaccustomed
"highball" as he pondered over some means of circumventing the
social treason of his dethroned "friend."

Clayton easily found a valid reason, for the semi-treason of Ferris.

"He is, after all, a stranger to me. His ambition leads him onward
and upward. He would tread on my body gladly in mounting to the
great monopolist's confidence. It is easy enough to see why Ferris
has played both the spy and lickspittle. It has paid him well.
Here's a jump to handling Worthington's power of attorney. Of course,
Ferris seeks the position of the one Eastern lawyer of the great
Trust.

"But," and a wave of anger swept away all the grateful memoirs
of his youth, "why did this cool old badger, Worthington, take me
to his home, later back me through college, and then, and there
railroad me off here to be fenced around with his spies? He could
have easily dropped me at any time. If he really cared to advance
me, why not have made me a lawyer and breed me up to share his
secrets?" There came no answer to his troubled mind as he sat there,
alone, despising Ferris and doubting even Worthington's candor.