The idea drove him childishly frantic. He wanted to kill Bloeckman and make him suffer for his hideous presumption. He was saying this over and over to himself with his teeth tight shut, and a perfect orgy of hate and fright in his eyes. But, behind this obscene jealousy, Anthony was in love at last, profoundly and truly in love, as the word goes between man and woman. His coffee appeared at his elbow and gave off for a certain time a gradually diminishing wisp of steam. The night manager, seated at his desk, glanced at the motionless figure alone at the last table, and then with a sigh moved down upon him just as the hour hand crossed the figure three on the big clock. WISDOM After another day the turmoil subsided and Anthony began to exercise a measure of reason. He was in love—he cr