they would be just any down-and-out couple. The Packard was their mark of distinction, their last remaining link with the world that had garden courts.
Never once did her faith in Hubert falter. He was not the kind of man who is called poor; he was merely broke. Something adventurous with a hint of a happy ending lurked in that word "broke." The summer, of course, was a bad time to get a position. But they'd manage somehow, and the day would finally come when Hubert would hit things right again. A man who can spend twenty-five thousand dollars without batting an eyelash isn't slated for the rocks.
Hubert hadn't remembered that he owed Carl Feldman a hundred dollars till he and Lillian were down once more to their last twenty-dollar bill.
"Gee," he thought, "I ought to have paid him."
Still, it wouldn't have been good sense to leave himself short. Besides, what was a hundred dollars? Some day, very soon now, he'd walk up to Carl with the hundred dollars and perhaps a bottle of real good Scotch and he'd tell Carl the whole story about how very broke he had been. They'd have a drink together and a darn good laugh. But in the meantime he dodged Carl and when Carl wrote to him he did not answer the letter. He would explain everything once he was all set again.
Sometimes he wondered if he ought to take a job doing just anything at all. It would only be temporary, of course. Just till things started breaking right again. It might be the sensible thing to do, but gee, a fellow who has owned his own business and really been some-
