We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
914
©CI.B30349
Vol. VII
M?
\!
Y.T&
MAGAZIN
JULY, 1914 J,
No. 6
nil ;'
The Ethics of the Profession
(Biograph)
By JANET REID
"IT brings me back to my college 1 days — this place." Dane Harris, wealthy broker, successful man of affairs, paused for a brief instant to reminisce. Seldom indeed that he permitted himself that luxury. Life, for him, had no Present, held no mellowed Past; it knew only Future — Future, holding in her laden palms the twin boons of Money and Success. His wife, sweet-faced, gently autumnal, smiled at him with eyes that held the wistful look of one who has, all unwillingly, lived her life alone.
"Rum old haunt, I think it," his son declared ; ' * such a seedy crowd — "
1 ' They were not seedy in my day, ' ' Harris defended; "the pick of the bunch used to head straight for here every time we hit the big city. I wonder where they are heading for now. I've lost track of them all. I'm beginning to be sorry "
"Sign of decrepitude, Dad," laughed Ralph.
"You've been so very busy, dear," his wife reminded him, as she had had, so often, to remind herself.
"I beg pardon" — a pleasantly modulated voice broke into the family conclave— "am I mistaken in thinking you •"
"Gordon!" ejaculated Harris, springing to his feet with an unaccustomed agility; "gad, old man, you've come in opportunely. I was talking of college days — and, after all, you were the largest part of them for me — but I 'm keeping you ; bring your party over here — we'd be delighted. My wife and son, Doctor Gordon."
Gordon's "party" consisted of one — a one palpably dear to him — a slim, warm-flushed girl, with dark, questing eyes and eager scarlet lips. "My wife," introduced Gordon, and the pride in his voice was very evident— glad and unashamed. To one of the party, at least, that pride was a fact easily appreciated. Ralph Harris, sipping a liqueur, thought no eyes he had ever seen had been so tenderly sweet; no smile so fair and gracious.
"You've changed, old chap," Harris was saying, in quite the easy camaraderie of the vanished collegechum days. Gordon's gravely moulded face became suddenly graver, almost stern.
"I've had a life calculated to change a great many things, Harris." he said. "There have been grim battles to conquer — battles not always of the flesh; there have been issues to
29