brought on by financial worry. You are killing yourself, and for no
reason in the world. Look at Alan Delbridge. He is the ideal man of
affairs. Nothing disturbs him."

"It is always Delbridge, Delbridge!" Mostyn said, testily. "Even
_you_ can't keep from hurling him in my teeth. He is as cold-blooded
as a fish. Why should I want to be like him?"

"Well, take Jarvis Saunders, then," she returned. "What more success
could a man want than he gets? I like to talk to him. He has a helpful
philosophy of life. When he leaves his desk he is as happy and free as
a boy out of school. I saw him pitching and catching ball in a vacant
lot with one of your clerks the other day. Is it any wonder that so
many mothers of unmarried daughters consider him a safe catch for
their girls? I am not punning; he really is wonderful."

"Oh, I know it," Mostyn answered, drinking his tea, impatiently. "I
was not made like him. I am not to blame."

Mrs. Moore eyed him silently for a moment, then a serious expression
settled on her florid face. "Well," she ejaculated, "when are you
going to make a real clean breast of it?"

A shudder passed through him. She knew what had brought him home.
Marie's hysterical protest had leaked out. The girl had talked to
others besides Saunders.

"What do you mean?" He asked the question quite aimlessly. He avoided
her eyes.