om the wall; Dennison stood before
it, looking into the sad, capable, grey eyes. What had life brought to
his father that was worth the price those eyes reflected? Dennison found
his own eyes moistening with memories now strangely poignant....

"Environment," the young man murmured, as he turned from the portrait,
"environment, master of everything! And yet--"

A photograph of Roy stood on the mantelpiece, and beside it, in a little
silver frame, was one of his mother.... Grant pulled himself together
and fell to an examination of the papers in his father's desk.

CHAPTER XII

Grant's first concern was to get a grasp of the business affairs which
had so unexpectedly come under his direction. To accomplish this he
continued the practice of the Landson ranch; he was up every morning at
five, and had done a day's work before the members of his staff began to
assemble. For advice he turned to Jones and Murdoch, and the management
of routine affairs he left entirely in the hands of the latter. He had
soon convinced himself that the camaraderie of the ranch would not work
in a staff of this kind, so while he was formulating plans of his own
he left the administration to Murdoch. He found this absence of
companionship the most unpleasant feature of his position; it seemed
that his wealth had elevated him out of the human family. He wavered
between amusement and annoyance over the deference that was paid him.
Some of the staff were openly terrified at his approach.

Not so Miss Bruce. Miss Bruce had tapped on the door and entered with
the words, "I was your father's stenographer. He left practically all
his personal correspondence to me. I worked at this desk in the corner,
and had a private office through the door there into which I slipped
when my absence was preferred."

She had crossed the room, and, instead of standing respectfully before
Grant's desk, had come around the end of it. Grant looked up with
some surprise, and noted that her features were not without commending
qualities. The mouth, a little large, perhaps--

"How do you think you're going to like your job?" she asked.

Grant swung around quickly in his chair. No one in the staff had spoken
to him like that; Murdoch himself would not have dared address him in so
familiar a manner. He decided to take a firm position.

"Were you in the habit of speaking to my father like that?"

"Your father was a man well on in years, Mr. Grant. Every man accordi