\"Now，Conrad，here，\"saidtheoldman，withasortofpatheticrancor，\"wouldratherhavethegloryalone。Ibelievehedon\'tevencaremuchforyourkindofglory，either，Mr。Fulkerson。\"
FulkersonranhislittleeyescuriouslyoverConrad\'sfaceandthenMarch\'s，asifsearchingforatracethereofsomethinggonebeforewhichwouldenablehimtoreachDryfoos\'swholemeaning。Heapparentlyresolvedtolaunchhimselfuponconjecture。\"Oh，well，weknowhowConradfeelsaboutthethingsofthisworld，anyway。Ishouldliketotake\'emontheplaneofanothersphere，too，sometimes；butInoticedagoodwhileagothatthiswastheworldIwasborninto，andsoImadeupmymindthatIwoulddoprettymuchwhatIsawtherestofthefolksdoingherebelow。AndIcan\'tseebutwhatConradrunsthethingonbusinessprinciplesinhisdepartment，andIguessyou\'llfinditsoifyoulookintoit。Iconsiderthatwe\'reawholeteamandbigdogunderthewagonwithyoutodrawonforsupplies，andMarch，here，attheheadoftheliterarybusiness，andConradinthecounting-room，andmetodotheheavylyingintheadvertisingpart。Oh，andBeaton，ofcourse，intheart。I\'mostforgotBeaton——HamletwithHamletleftout。\"
Dryfooslookedacrossathisson。\"Wasn\'tthatthefellow\'snamethatwastherelastnight?\"
\"Yes，\"saidConrad。
Theoldmanrose。\"Well，IreckonIgottobegoing。Youreadytogoup-town，Conrad?\"