es were brighter and there was more color in her cheeks.
Don had never seen much of women in the forenoon. As far as he was
concerned, Frances did not exist before luncheon. But what experience
he had led him to believe that Miss Winthrop was an exception--that
most women continued to freshen toward night and were at their best at
dinner-time.

"Mr. Pendleton." It was Eddie. "Mr. Farnsworth wants to see you in his
office."

Farnsworth handed Don a collection of circulars describing some of the
securities the firm was offering.

"Better familiarize yourself with these," he said briefly. "If there
is anything in them you don't understand, ask one of the other men."

That was all. In less than three minutes Don was back again at
Powers's desk. He glanced through one of the circulars, which had to
do with a certain electric company offering gold bonds at a price to
net four and a half. He read it through once and then read it through
again. It contained a great many figures--figures running into the
millions, whose effect was to make twenty-five dollars a week shrink
into insignificance. On the whole, it was decidedly depressing
reading--the more so because he did not understand it.

He wondered what Miss Winthrop did when she was tired, where she lived
and how she lived, if she played bridge, if she spent her summers
abroad, who her parents were, whether she was eighteen or twenty-two
or -three, and if she sang. All of which had nothing to do with the
affairs of the company that wished to dispose of its gold bonds at a
price to net four and a half.

At twelve Miss Winthrop rose from her machine and sought her hat in
the rear of the office. At twelve-five she came back, passed him as if
he had been an empty chair, and went out the door. At twelve-ten he
followed. He made his way at once to the restaurant in the alley. She
was not in the chair she had occupied yesterday, but farther back.
Happily, the chair next to her was empty.

"Will you hold this for me?" he asked.

"Better drop your hat in it," she suggested rather coldly.

He obeyed the suggestion, and a minute later returned with a cup of
coffee and an egg sandwich. She was gazing indifferently across the
room as he sat down, but he called her attention to his lunch.

"You see, I got one of these things to-day."

"So?"

"Do you eat it with a fork or pick it up in your fingers?" he asked.

She turned involuntarily to see if he was serious. She could not