CHAPTER III

THE BANKER AND HIS FAD





When Gordon woke next morning from a fitful sleep he was stupid
and blue and had a headache. His wife had not slept at all, but
was cheerful, tender and solicitous.

"Ruth, I can't go down to the ministers' meeting this morning,"
he said wearily. "I must take a day off in the country. I'll lose
both soul and body if I don't take one day's rest in seven. I didn't
tell you last night that I came near fainting in the pulpit during
the evening sermon."

She slipped her hand in his, looking up reproachfully at him out
of her dark eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me that, Frank?"

"I thought you had enough troubles last night. I'll run out on Long
Island and spend the day with Overman. You needn't frown. You are
strangely mistaken in him. I know you hate his brutal frankness,
and he is anything but a Christian, but we are old college chums,
and he's the clearest-headed personal friend I have. I need his
advice about my fight with Van Meter. Overman is a venomous critic
of my Social dreams. I've often wondered at your dislike of him,