What a mess he had made of this affair! This girl must be playing upon
him. In his folly he had let her see how completely he was in her power,
and she was using that power to establish relations between them that
were the very opposite of what he desired--and must have. He must
control himself. "As you please," he said coldly, dropping her hand.
"I'm sorry, but unless you are reasonable I can do nothing for you." And
he went to his desk.

She hesitated a moment; as her back was toward him, he could not see her
expression. Without looking round she went out of his office. It took
all his strength to let her go. "She's bluffing," he muttered. "And
yet--perhaps she isn't. There may be people like that left in New York."
Whatever the truth, he simply must make a stand. He knew women; no woman
had the least respect for a man who let her rule--and this woman,
relying upon his weakness for her, was bent upon ruling. If he did not
make a stand, she was lost to him. If he did make a stand, he could no
more than lose her. Lose her! That thought made him sick at heart. "What
a fool I am about her!" he cried. "I must hurry things up. I must get
enough of her--must get through it and back to my sober senses."

That was a time of heavy pressure of important affairs. He furiously
attacked one task after another, only to abandon each in turn. His mind,
which had always been his obedient, very humble servant, absolutely
refused to obey. He turned everything over to his associates or to
subordinates, fighting all morning against the longing to send for her.
At half past twelve he strode out of the office, putting on the air of
the big man absorbed in big affairs. He descended to the street. But
instead of going up town to keep an appointment at a business lunch he
hung round the entrance to the opposite building.

She did not appear until one o'clock. Then out she came--with the head
office boy!--the good-looking, young head office boy.

Norman's contempt for himself there reached its lowest ebb. For his
blood boiled with jealousy--jealousy of his head office boy!--and about
an obscure little typewriter! He followed the two, keeping to the other
side of the street. Doubtless those who saw and recognized him fancied
him deep in thought about some mighty problem of corporate law or
policy, as he moved from and to some meeting with the great men who
dictated to a nation of ninety millions what they should buy and how
much they should