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Happily, his otherwise commonplace face was relieved by the one
unfailing characteristic of composite photographs, large, deep-set
and thoughtful eyes. Otherwise he would have passed in any crowd,
and nobody would have noticed him pass. Now, at twenty-seven, he
looked back over the five years since his graduation from college
and wondered what he had done with them; and at the four previous
years of undergraduate life and wondered how he had done so well
with those and why he had not in some manner justified the parting
words of his favorite professor.
"You have one rare faculty, Jones. You can, when you choose,
sharpen the pencil of your mind to a very fine point. Specialize,
my boy, specialize."
If the recipient of this admonition had specialized in anything, it
was in life. Having twenty-five thousand a year of his own he might
have continued in that path indefinitely, but for two influences.
One was an irruptive craving within him to take some part in the
dynamic activities of the surrounding world.


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