there to comment on his embarrassment. Then he leaned back in his
chair and went slowly over in thought the experiences of that eventful
night in his house. Why, this slip of a girl--a half-breed Indian at
best--this mere baby--! But he glanced up at the great electric wall
clock, and wished it were then twelve-fifteen.

* * * * *

At noon Ames, jauntily swinging his light walking stick, strolled
casually into the office of the Express. His air was one of supreme
confidence in his own powers. He was superhuman, and he knew it. And
the knowledge rendered him unafraid of God, man, or beast. He had met
and conquered everything mundane, excepting this young girl. But that
thought was now delightful to him. In her he had unearthed a real
novelty, a ceaseless interest. She reminded him of a beautiful kitten.
She scratched and nettled him; but she was as nothing in his grasp.

The first thing that impressed him on entering the office was the air
of prosperity which hung over the place. The environment, he mentally
commented, was somewhat unusual for a newspaper plant. Order, quiet,
and cleanliness were dominant notes in the prevailing harmony. He
first walked back into the pressroom to see if the same conditions
prevailed there. Then he retraced his steps, and at length came to a
halt before a door bearing the inscription, "Miss Ariza," on the
glass. Turning the knob, he peered curiously in.

The room was small, but light and airy. Its furnishings were new, and
its walls had been freshly tinted. A few pictures of good quality hung
about them. A handsome rug lay upon the floor. At the desk, bending
over a new typewriter, sat Carmen.

"I beg pardon," said Ames, hesitating in the doorway.

The girl glanced up quickly. "Oh, come in," she said. "I was expecting
you."

He entered and took the chair indicated. "You don't mind if I finish
this article, do you?" she said, bending again to her work. "It's got
to go to the compositors right away."

"Certainly--don't stop," replied Ames easily. "When we talk I want
your undivided attention."

"Oh, you're sure to get it," she returned, laughing. And Ames wondered
just what she meant.

He sat back in his chair and watched her closely. How wondrous fair
she was! Yet, there was just a slight tint in her skin, he thought.
Perhaps the report that she was a mulatto was not wholly unfounded,
although the strain must have been greatly mixed. H