ng while she watched him peer at her over the
shoulder of S. Herbert Ross, to whom he was talking. He drew nearer to
her. He examined a poster. She was oblivious of him. She was conscious
that he was trying to find an excuse to say something without openly
admitting to the ever-spying row of stenographers that he was interested
in her. He wambled up to her at last and asked for a letter she had
filed for him. She knew from the casual-looking drop of his eyes that he
was peering at the triangle of her clear-skinned throat, and for his
peeping uneasiness she rather despised him. She could fancy herself
shouting at him, "Oh, stop fidgeting! Make up your mind whether you like
me or not, and hurry up about it. I don't care now."

In which secret defiance she was able to luxuriate--since he was still
in the office, not gone from her forever!--till five o'clock, when the
detached young men of offices are wont to face another evening of
lonely irrelevancy, and desperately begin to reach for companionship.

At that hour Walter rushed up and begged, "Goldie, you _must_ come out
with me this evening."

"I'm sorry, but it's so late--"

"Oh, I know. Gee! if you knew how I've been thinking about you all day!
I've been wondering if I ought to-- I'm no good; blooming waster, I told
myself; and I wondered if I had any right to try to make you care;
but-- Oh, you _must_ come, Goldie!"

Una's pride steeled her. A woman can forgive any vice of man more
readily than she can forgive his not loving her so unhesitatingly that
he will demand her without stopping to think of his vices. Refusal to
sacrifice the beloved is not a virtue in youth.

Una said, clearly, "I am sorry, but I can't possibly this evening."

"Well--wish you could," he sighed.

As he moved away Una reveled in having refused his half-hearted
invitation, but already she was aware that she would regret it. She was
shaken with woman's fiercely possessive clinging to love.

The light on one side of her desk was shut off by the bulky presence of
Miss Moynihan. She whispered, huskily, "Say, Miss Golden, you want to
watch out for that Babson fellow. He acts like he was stuck on you. Say,
listen; everybody says he's a bad one. Say, listen, honest; they say
he'd compromise a lady jus' soon as not."

"Why, I don't know what you mean."

"Oh no, like fun you don't--him rubbering at you all day and
pussy-footing around!"

"Why, you're perfectly crazy! He was merely asking me