sized order for some window shades. Gay did not think it
necessary to answer. He did not glance at her; instead he yawned and
sprinkled toilet water profusely on his pink lawn handkerchief.

After a moment's hesitation she went her own way. When she had
lingered about the jewellery counter like a wilful yet not quite
wicked child--peering down at the wonderful, enchanting things which
mocked her empty purse; recalling Gay's first flush of romance and
devotion; her own clever, untiring methods of pushing him into the
front ranks; Mary and Mary's little secret, so unsafe in Trudy's
keeping; Beatrice, who did not know quite how many rings she
possessed; the whole maddening and really uninteresting tangle--she
wondered if she could force Gay to buy her a ring. Should she boldly
order such-and-such a stone and pick out a setting and present him
with the bill? Why she hesitated she did not know; she was like all
her wilful sisters who gaze and sigh, pity themselves, and then steal
away to Oriental shops to appease the hunger by a near-silver ring
with a bulging near-precious stone set in Hoboken style.

This Trudy did not do. For some reason or other she let her errands go
by and took a car to Mary's office, stopping at the corner to buy her
a flower. Instinctively one connected Mary and flowers as one
associated Beatrice and jewellery.

She found Mary had gone into the old office building to see about
something and that Steve, who was always as restless as a polar bear
when forced into a tete-a-tete with Trudy, was alone in his office. He
was obliged to ask her to sit down and wait for Mary. Trudy peered
curiously about the rooms. She had never lost that rare sense of
triumph--returning as a fine lady to the very place where she had once
worked for fifteen per. Smiling graciously at former associates she
imagined that she created as much excitement as Beatrice's visits
themselves.

"It seems so good to come back here," she began without mercy.

Steve had to lay aside his work and wonder why Miss Lunk ever let this
creature into his private domain. He would see that it did not happen
twice.

"Ah--I suppose," he knew he answered.

"You are such a busy man; you don't know how I admire you." Trudy
tried fresh tactics.

"Um--have you seen the morning papers?"

"Thank you but Gay read them to me at breakfast.... You never come to
our little home, do you? Too busy, I presume. Or are you one of those
who can forgive ever