it is. You want to laff and see
things happy all around you. Later you'll get so you see the other
feller mostly thinks of himself, and don't care a hoot for the folks
sitting around. Then you'll feel different; and you'll tell folks you
don't like the things you feel about them."

He went on writing, smiling at his own cynicism.

Nancy leant back in her chair. His words left her unaffected. She was
used to him. But, for a moment, she contemplated the dark head,
supported on his hand, without any warmth of regard.

After awhile she glanced away, her gaze wandering over the luxurious
furnishings of the room. And it occurred to her to wonder how much, if
any, of the excellent taste of the decorations owed inception to the man
at the desk. No. Not much. The cheque-book and the decorator's artist
must have been responsible. This grossly Teutonic creature with his
cynical, commercial mind, was something of an anachronism, and could
never have inspired the perfect harmony of the palatial offices of his
Corporation. It was rather a pity. He had been exceedingly good to her.
She would have liked to think that he was the genius of the whole
structure of the Skandinavia, even to the decorations of the office. But
it was impossible.

The man blotted and folded his letter. He enclosed and sealed it. He
even addressed it himself.

"I'm kind of sorry I had to break in on you while you were fixing those
reports," he said, in his friendliest fashion. "But, you see, I'm just
through with the Board, and we took a bunch of decisions that need
handling right away. Tell me," he went on, an ironical light creeping
into his smiling eyes, "you reckon you've set your finger on the real
trouble with our dropping output. I want to know about it because the
Board and I can't be sure we've located it right."

The sarcasm hurt. It was not intended to. Elas Peterman had no desire in
the world to hurt this girl. A cleverer man would have avoided it. But
this man had no refinement of thought or feeling. Cynicism and sarcasm
were his substitutes for a humour he did not possess.

Nancy's cheeks flushed hotly. But she stifled her feelings. She was
confident of herself, and despite the manner of the challenge, she knew
the moment of her great opportunity had come.

With a quick movement she crossed her knees and leant forward. She
smiled in response.

"Yet, it's easy," she said boldly, with bland retaliation. "The reports
are not good. And the