where he had been
cooling his heels for the half-hour, he had a distinct quickening of
this latent purpose. Adelle Clark was not at this period, if she ever
was, what is usually called a pretty girl. She had grown a little, and
now gave the impression of being really tall, which was largely an
effect of her skillful dressmaker. Pale and slender and graceful,
exquisitely draped in a gown subtly made for her, with a profusion of
barbaric jewelry which from this time on she always affected, Adelle was
what is commonly called striking. She had the enviable quality of
attracting attention to herself, even on the jaded streets of Paris, as
suggesting something pleasurably different from the stream of
passers-by. The American man of affairs did not stop to analyze all
this. He was merely conscious that here was a woman whom no man need be
ashamed of, even if he married her for other reasons than her beauty.
And he set himself at once, not to catechize the bank's ward about her
expenditures, but to interest the girl in himself. They went to the
Savoy for luncheon, and the trust officer noted pleasurably the
attention they received as they made their way through the crowded
breakfast-room. And in spite of Adelle's monosyllabic habit of
conversation, they got on very well over their food, about which Adelle
had well-formulated ideas. He suggested taking a cab and attending the
cricket match, and so after luncheon they gayly set forth on the long
ride to Hurlingham in the stream of motors and cabs bound for the match.

Adelle smiled shyly at Mr. Crane's heavy sarcasm upon British ways, and
replied briefly to his questions about her winter in Paris. The
situation was a novel one to her, and she enjoyed it. The one thing her
money had thus far not done for her was to bring her men--she had,
indeed, done nothing herself to attract them. But now for five hours she
had the constant attention of a good-looking, well-dressed, mature man.
To be sure Mr. Ashly Crane was much older than she. He gave her the
curious sensation of being in some way a relative. Was the Washington
Trust Company not the nearest thing to a relative that she had? And Mr.
Ashly Crane was the personal symbol to her of the trust company--its
voice and lungs and clothes. So she felt a faint emotion over the
incident. As they were returning from the cricket field in the English
twilight, with the scurry of moving vehicles all about them, Mr. Crane
ventured on more pers