Hardly less distasteful was the idea of going back to his family. The offer had been renewed by Mr. Weston, who, though his ill-advised speculations had checked his career in real estate, was ready to take his son and his son's wife into his house, and find a job for Vance (he thought there would still be a chance on the Free Speaker). But Vance's few hours with his grandmother had put Euphoria before him in merciless perspective. In every allusion, every turn of her speech, every image that came to her, he saw how far he had travelled from Mapledale Avenue. With cruel precision he evoked the mental atmosphere of the place; the slangy dingy days at the Free Speaker, the family evenings about the pink-throated gramophone; and he knew he could not face it. Yet he was determined not to let Laura Lou suspect his reluctance. His business was to do his best for her, and perhaps, according to her lights, his best was this. He put the case for Mapledale Avenue first, without betraying his own feelings; he even exaggerated the advantages of his father's offer. But, to his surprise, Laura Lou rejected it. She was never good at giving reasons or analysing her instinctive reluctances, and he suspected that the fear of hurting his feelings benumbed her. But she seemed to feel that he ought to be near New York, and not have to go back to newspaper work, at least not at Euphoria… . "I know you'd be doing it just for me," she tried to explain.

"Well, we've got to live," he rejoined, not unkindly; and she said, in her disjointed way: "If we were somewhere where I could cook … and nobody interfere… ." If they had a home of their own! He knew that was what she meant. But he said, still more gently: "See here, Laura Lou, till I can give you a place where nobody'll interfere, how about going out to your mother and Upton? You know that climate—"