Hoping for the favor of an early reply,--

he concluded,--

I beg to remain, Madame, most sincerely yours.

"Is that all?"

"You might add this postscript":--

I shall be at the Harvard Club at seven to-night, and a 'phone message there might be the most convenient way of replying.

"You don't really wish this typed, Mr. Pendleton?"

"I think it best," he replied as he rose, "unless you're too tired?"

"I'm never tired in business hours."

He returned to his desk; in a few seconds he heard the click of her machine.

Miss Winthrop did not stop at the delicatessen store that night, but went direct to her room. She removed her hat and coat, and then sat down, chin in hands, to think this problem out.

She had missed Pendleton at the luncheon hour to a distinctly discomfiting degree. Naturally enough, she held him wholly responsible for that state of mind. Her life had been going along smoothly until he took it upon himself to come into the office. There had been no complications--no worries. She was earning enough to provide her with a safe retreat at night, and to clothe and feed her body; and this left her free, within certain accepted limits, to do as she pleased.

This was her enviable condition when Mr. Pendleton came along--came from Heaven knew where, and took up his position near her desk. Then he had happened upon her at the little restaurant. And he was hungry and had only thirteen cents.

Perhaps right there was where she had made her mistake. It appeared that a woman could not be impersonally decent to a man without being held personally responsible. If she did not telephone him to-night, Pendleton would be disappointed, and, being disappointed, Heaven only knew what he would do.

Under the circ.u.mstances, perhaps the wisest thing she could do was to meet him this once and make him clearly understand that she was never to meet him again. Pendleton was young, and he had not been long enough in the office to learn the downtown conventions. It was her fault that she had interested herself in him in the first place. It was her fault that she had allowed him to lunch with her. It was her fault that she had not been strictly businesslike with him in the office. So she would have dinner with him, and that would end it.

She had some tea and crackers, and at half-past six put on her things and took a short walk. At seven she went into a public pay station, rang up the Harvard Club, and called for Mr. Pendleton. When she heard his voice her cheeks turned scarlet.

"If you insist I'll come to-morrow night," she informed him. "But--"

"Say, that's fine!" he interrupted.

"But I want you to understand that I don't approve of it."

"Oh, that's all right," he a.s.sured her. "Where may I call for you?"

"I--I don't know."

"Where do you live?"

She gave her address.

"Then I'll call there."

"Very well," she answered.

"Now, I call that mighty good of you," he ran on. "And--"

"Good-night," she concluded sharply.

She hung up the receiver and went back to her room in anything but a comfortable frame of mind.

CHAPTER XI

STEAK, WITH MUSHROOMS AND ADVICE

All of Miss Winthrop that occupied a desk in the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves on the next day was that for which Farnsworth was paying a weekly wage of twelve dollars. From the moment she entered that morning until she left that afternoon she made this perfectly clear to every one, including Don. But he also was busy. He had determined to make himself letter perfect on several bond issues. To this end he worked as hard as ever he had the day before a final examination. Besides this, Farnsworth found three or four errands for him to do, which he accomplished with dispatch. All that week Farnsworth had used him more and more--a distinctly encouraging sign.

Don knew offhand now the location of some ten or fifteen offices, and was received in them as the recognized representative of Carter, Rand & Seagraves. In some places he was even known by name and addressed as Mr. Pendleton--which filled him with considerable pride.

Don went direct to his house from the office, dressed, and went to the club.

"If any one rings me up, get the name," he ordered the doorman.

He avoided the crowd before the bar, and went upstairs to the library.

He had brought his circulars with him, and now went over them once again in order to refresh his memory on some of the details. He was as anxious about getting this right as if Miss Winthrop were a prospective customer. Perhaps she might be. Women invested money, and if he was persuasive enough he might sell her a thousand-dollar bond.

If he did not sell one to her, he might sell a few to Barton. Barton was always investing money--investing the Pendleton money, in fact. He might suggest Barton to Farnsworth, and drop around and see him to-morrow. Then Barton might suggest some one else. Before night he might in this way sell a couple of dozen of these bonds. He grew excited at the idea. He felt a new instinct stirring within him.

Don had never sold anything in his life except a few old clothes to second-hand clothes men in Cambridge. Strictly speaking, that was more in the nature of a gift than a sale: for a hundred dollars' worth of clothes, he received perhaps ten dollars, which he felt obliged to spend on his friends at the first opportunity.

Don had always been a buyer--a talent that required neither preparation nor development. Money had always pa.s.sed from him to some one else. This was pleasant enough, but undramatic. There was no clash; it called for no effort on his part. To reverse all this and watch the money pa.s.s in the other direction--from some one else to him--impressed him as a pleasant variation.

At seven o'clock Don replaced his circulars in his pocket and went downstairs. Wadsworth pa.s.sed him, and for a moment Don was tempted to stop him and try out his knowledge of bonds on him. The club, however, was hardly the place for that. But if ever he met Wadsworth on the street he would see what he could do. Wadsworth had never been more than an acquaintance of his, but now he saw in him a prospective customer.

Don stepped into a taxi at the door and gave the driver the address supplied by Miss Winthrop. The cab after a little came to a stop before one of several entrances in a long brick block. Before Don had time to reach the door Miss Winthrop stepped out. He had rather hoped for an opportunity to meet some of her family.

"Am I late?" he inquired anxiously.

He could not account in any other way for the fact that she had hurried out before he had a chance to send in his card.

"No," she answered. "Did you come in that?"

She was looking at the taxi.

He nodded, and stood at the door, ready to a.s.sist her in.

"Well, you may send it away now," she informed him.

"But--"

"I won't go in it," she insisted firmly.

"Afraid it will break down?"