happiness. She made so little trouble and she possessed such a delightfully unconscious vein of humour. As Paul stepped into a doorway to light a cigarette, he began to chuckle over a new idea which had occurred to him. How ironic, how ludicrously perverse, it would be to support Vera, supposing war or failure or some other great human or natural force should suddenly sweep away the Whittaker millions!
With such idle reflections he whiled away his walk until, almost before he was aware of it, he was climbing the stairs which led to the atelier of the Brothers Steel. In response to his knock Mrs. Hugo opened the door.
O, Mr. Moody, she cried, I'm so glad to see you!
Where are the boys?
Why, they're not home from the show yet. I was just cookin' supper for them.
Paul consulted his watch. It's just after ten, he said. How long . . . ?
Any minute, now. They got a better spot on the bill this week. They're Number 1.
Where are they working?
Brooklyn. Of course, she went on, with a courageous interpretation of the facts of life, the while she stirred a mixture in the pot on the stove with a long spoon, Number 1 isn't the best spot, but it's better to have folks walkin' in on you than walkin' out on you.
In the circumstances Paul considered this excellent
