V
Henry Thompson dashed into the office, clamoring, "George!
Big news! Jake Offutt says the Traction Bunch are dissatisfied
with the way Sanders, Torrey and Wing handled their last
deal, and they're willing to dicker with us!''
Babbitt was pleased in the realization that the last scar
of his rebellion was healed, yet as he drove home he was annoyed
by such background thoughts as had never weakened
him in his days of belligerent conformity. He discovered that
he actually did not consider the Traction group quite honest.
"Well, he'd carry out one more deal for them, but as soon as
it was practicable, maybe as soon as old Henry Thompson died,
he'd break away from all association from them. He was
forty-eight; in twelve years he'd be sixty; he wanted to leave
a clean business to his grandchildren. Course there was a
lot of money in negotiating for the Traction people, and a fellow
had to look at things in a practical way, only—'' He
wriggled uncomfortably. He wanted to tell the Traction group
what he thought of them. "Oh, he couldn't do it, not now.
If he offended them this second time, they would crush him.
But—''
He was conscious that his line of progress seemed confused.
He wondered what he would do with his future. He was still
young; was he through with all adventuring? He felt that
he had been trapped into the very net from which he had with
such fury escaped and, supremest jest of all, been made to
rejoice in the trapping.
"They've licked me; licked me to a finish!'' he whimpered.
The house was peaceful, that evening, and he enjoyed a
game of pinochle with his wife. He indignantly told the
Tempter that he was content to do things in the good old
fashioned way. The day after, he went to see the purchasing-agent
of the Street Traction Company and they made plans
for the secret purchase of lots along the Evanston Road. But
as he drove to his office he struggled, "I'm going to run things
and figure out things to suit myself—when I retire.''