door opening out of the hall to the right,
and, once inside, he stood awkwardly rooted to the floor, gazing about
him and at her and all the time trying not to gaze. In his perturbation
he failed to hear and see her invitation to a seat. So these were her
quarters. The intimacy of it and her making no fuss about it was
startling, but it was no more than he would have expected of her. It
was almost two rooms in one, the one he was in evidently the
sitting-room, and the one he could see into, the bedroom. Beyond an
oaken dressing-table, with an orderly litter of combs and brushes and
dainty feminine knickknacks, there was no sign of its being used as a
bedroom. The broad couch, with a cover of old rose and banked high with
cushions, he decided must be the bed, but it was farthest from any
experience of a civilized bed he had ever had.

Not that he saw much of detail in that awkward moment of standing. His
general impression was one of warmth and comfort and beauty. There
were no carpets, and on the hardwood floor he caught a glimpse of
several wolf and coyote skins. What captured and perceptibly held his
eye for a moment was a Crouched Venus that stood on a Steinway upright
against a background of mountain-lion skin on the wall.

But it was Dede herself that smote most sharply upon sense and
perception. He had always cherished the idea that she was very much a
woman--the lines of her figure, her hair, her eyes, her voice, and
birdlike laughing ways had all contributed to this; but here, in her
own rooms, clad in some flowing, clinging gown, the emphasis of sex was
startling. He had been accustomed to her only in trim tailor suits and
shirtwaists, or in riding costume of velvet corduroy, and he was not
prepared for this new revelation. She seemed so much softer, so much
more pliant, and tender, and lissome. She was a part of this
atmosphere of quietude and beauty. She fitted into it just as she had
fitted in with the sober office furnishings.

"Won't you sit down?" she repeated.

He felt like an animal long denied food. His hunger for her welled up
in him, and he proceeded to "wolf" the dainty morsel before him. Here
was no patience, no diplomacy. The straightest, direct way was none
too quick for him and, had he known it, the least unsuccessful way he
could have chosen.

"Look here," he said, in a voice that shook with passion, "there's one
thing I won't do, and that's propose to you in the office. T