America, at the outside only two, Booker T. Washington and Du Bois — and both with white blood in them� .”

Paula feigned a cheerful interest while the exposition went on. She did not appear bored, but to Graham’s sympathetic eyes she seemed inwardly to droop. And in an interval of tilt between Terrence and Hancock, she said in a low voice to Graham:

“Words, words, words, so much and so many of them! I suppose Dick is right — he so nearly always is; but I confess to my old weakness of inability to apply all these floods of words to life — to my life, I mean, to my living, to what I should do, to what I must do.” Her eyes were unfalteringly fixed on his while she spoke, leaving no doubt in his mind to what she referred. “I don’t know