Lawrence was waiting for Bill Boxell. The Vice President had called and asked if he could see the Secretary at his home. He said the matter was urgent. The Secretary was uneasy about the visit. He did not like Boxell. He suspected something underhanded and furtive about him. Lawrence could not put his finger on it precisely, and this worried him. When you disliked or distrusted a man, you should have a reason. Human nature was not a piece of meat you could tell was bad by its smell. Lawrence stared a minute at the lighted ribbon of traffic, hoping that a clue to his dislike of the Vice President would appear. It did not. Therefore, he decided he was unfair to the young man and should make an effort to understand and sympathize with his point of view.

A half hour later the Vice President arrived. He looked very carefully at every piece of furnishing, as though hoping to store this information carefully in his mind. He observed the Florentine vase in the hall, the Renoir painting in the library, as well as the long shelves of well-bound volumes; the pattern of the Oriental rug, the delicate cut-glass chandelier.

He said to the Secretary, ``I understand you came from a little Pennsylvania town near Wilkes-Barre. How did you find out about this?'' He waved his arm around at the furnishings.

It was not a discourteous question, Lawrence decided. This young man had so little time to learn he had to be curious; he had to find out. The Secretary did not tell him at what cost, at what loneliness, he learned these things. He merely said, ``Any good decorator these days can make you a tasteful home.''