"
"Good God! How do you know?"
"It's a long story, and no time to tell it. Somebody's tipped me
off. Where can I meet you? Every minute is precious."
"Where are you?" I asked, and learned that he was at his home, not
far away. I said I would come there, and I hurried to Betty and had
another scene with her, and left her weeping, vowing that she would
never see me again. I ran out and jumped into my car--and I would
hate to tell what I did to the speed laws of Western City. Suffice
it to say that a few minutes later I was in Old Joe's den, and he
was telling me his story.
Part of it I got then, and part of it later, but I might as well
tell it all at once and be done with it. It happened that at the
restaurant where Old Joe and I had dined before we went to the
mass-meeting, he had met a girl whom he knew too well, after the
fashion of young men about town. In greeting her on the way out, he
had told her he was going to hear the new prophet and had laughingly
suggested that the meeting was free.
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