use that evening, I caught myself making
eyes at him, knowing that every woman in the dining-room would have
given her front teeth to be where I was."

After which extensive period, Ethel Morrissey helped herself to her
third cup of tea. Emma McChesney relaxed a little and laughed a
tremulous little laugh.

"Oh, well, I suppose I must not hope to combat such formidable rivals
as walking-sticks, chamois gloves, and EYES. My business arguments are
futile compared to those."

Ethel Morrissey delivered herself of a last shot.

"You're wrong, Emma. Those things helped him, but they didn't sell his
line. He sold Featherlooms out of salesmanship, and because he sounded
convincing and sincere and businesslike--and he had the samples. It
wasn't all bunk. It was three-quarters business. Those two make an
invincible combination."

An hour later, Ethel Morrissey was shrewdly selecting her winter line
of Featherlooms from the stock in the showrooms of the T. A. Buck
Company. They went about their business transaction, these two, with
the cool abruptness of men, speaking little, and then only of prices,
discounts, dating, shipping. Their luncheon conversation of an hour
before seemed an impossibility.

"You'll have dinner with me to-night?" Emma asked. "Up at my
apartment, all cozy?"

"Not to-night, dearie. I'll be in bed by eight. I'm not the girl I
used to be. Time was when a New York buying-trip was a vacation. Now
it's a chore."

She took Emma McChesney's hand and patted it.

"If you've got something real nice for dinner, though, and feel like
company, why don't you ask--somebody else that's lonesome."

After which, Ethel Morrissey laughed her wickedest and waved a sudden
good-by with a last word about seeing her to-morrow.

Emma McChesney, her color high, entered her office. It was five
o'clock. She cleared her desk in half an hour, breathed a sigh of
weariness, reached for hat and jacket, donned them, and, turning out
her lights, closed her door behind her for the day. At that same
instant, T. A. Buck slammed his own door and walked briskly down the
hall. They met at the elevator.

They descended in silence. The street gained, they paused uncertainly.

"Won't you stay down and have dinner with me to-night, Emma?"

"Thanks so much, T. A. Not to-night."

"I'm--sorry."

"Good night."

"Good night."

She turned away. He stood there, in the busy street, looking
irresolutely and not at all