PEACE AT ANY PRICE Miss Severance, stepping out of a Waldorf elevator at the main floor, shrank back wide-eyed.

"You ?" she gasped.
Before her, serene and smiling and inflexible, was Craig.

None of the suits he had bought at seven that morning was quite right for immediate use; so there he was in his old lounge suit, baggy at knees and elbows and liberally bestrewn with lint.

Her glance fell from his mussy collar to his backwoodsman's hands, to his feet, so cheaply and shabbily shod; the shoes looked the worse for the elaborate gloss the ferry bootblack had put upon them.

She advanced because she could not retreat; but never had she been so repelled.
She had come to New York to get away from him.