Leora was awaiting him—Leora whose fate it was ever to wait for him in creaky rocking-chairs in cheapish rooms. As he galloped in she smiled, and all her thin, sweet body was illumined. Before he spoke she cried:
"Oh, Sandy, I'm so glad!"
She interrupted his room-striding panegyrics on Max Gottlieb, on the McGurk Institute, on New York, on the charms of staphylolysin, by a meek "Dear, how much are they going to pay you?"
He stopped with a bump. "Gosh! I forgot to ask!"
"Oh!"
"Now you look here! This isn't a Rouncefield Clinic! I hate these buzzards that can't see anything but making money—"
"I know, Sandy. Honestly, I don't care. I was just wondering what kind of a flat we'll be able to afford, so I can begin looking for it. Go on. Dr. Gottlieb said—"
It was three hours after, at ei
