trike. But the
humor of the thing appealed to her most strongly of all. In spite of
herself, she smiled as she reached once more for her hat. And this
time Mr. Bush did not attempt to restrain her.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she had gained the street, and she
did not in the least care if her departure during business hours
excited any curiosity in the main office. Moreover, she was doubly
glad to be away from Bush. The expression on his face as he drew back
and stanched his bleeding nose had momentarily chilled her.

"He looked perfectly devilish," she told herself. "My, I loathe that
man! He _is_ dangerous. Marry him? The idea!"

She knew that she must have cut him deeply in a man's tenderest
spot--his self-esteem. But just how well she had gauged the look and
possibilities of Mr. Andrew Bush, Hazel scarcely realized.

"I won't tell Jack," she reflected. "He'd probably want to thrash him.
And that _would_ stir up a lot of horrid talk. Dear me, that's one
experience I don't want repeated. I wonder if he made court to his
first wife in that high-handed, love-me-or-I'll-beat-you-to-death
fashion?"

She laughed when she caught herself scrubbing vigorously with her
handkerchief at the place where his lips had touched her cheek. She
was primitive enough in her instincts to feel a trifle glad of having
retaliated in what her training compelled her to consider a "perfectly
hoydenish" manner. But she could not deny that it had proved
wonderfully effective.

CHAPTER III

"I DO GIVE AND BEQUEATH"

When Jack Barrow called again, which happened to be that very evening,
Hazel told him simply that she had left Harrington & Bush, without
entering into any explanation except the general one that she had found
it impossible to get on with Mr. Bush in her new position. And Jack,
being more concerned with her than with her work, gave the matter scant
consideration.

This was on a Friday. The next forenoon Hazel went downtown. When she
returned, a little before eleven, the maid of all work was putting the
last touches to her room. The girl pointed to an oblong package on a
chair.

"That came for you a little while ago, Miss Weir," she said. "Mr.
Bush's carriage brought it."

"Mr. Bush's carriage!" Hazel echoed.

"Yes'm. Regular swell turnout, with a footman in brown livery. My,
you could see the girls peeking all along the square when it stopped at
our door. It quite flustered the miss