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 of mental, moral, physical, and romantic bias; once you had eliminated prejudice and prudishness and agreed on the angle of vision, on the definition of terms, the old theses over which, as Rhoda Marple had once remarked, you had been wont to muss your hair and talk yourself blue in the face till daybreak, held water perfectly. And he could almost wish to be back in the Harvard Union to display this new feather he had got in his cap. In the old days he had only passionately felt he was right; now he passionately and with a tinge of bitterness, knew.

He was skirting the Buttes Chaumont and at a turn in the road caught sight of Mme. Casimir, leaning forward in her car to give an instruction to the chauffeur she had once brought home from the model market. There was a softer light in her eyes than the usual glitter. Grover wondered what the chauffeur had got for New Year's and hurried on, picturing to himself Mme. Casimir's arrival at home: the two men of genius talking like a house afire about their symptoms,—their wives, with excessive amiability, falling into a discussion of the immorality of cooks, eyeing each other with a deadly accuracy, while the little Racicots nibbled cakes and viciously pinched each other under the table.

Idly he wondered what had become of Max Bruff. The essential cheapness of Max showed up clearly in contrast to the patient sufferings of the man to whom he paid such fervent tribute. Though Max had a very