"No woman would have done all you've done for me, if she didn't."

For answer, Susan kissed him passionately; and as her body
trembled with the sudden upheaval of emotions long dormant or
indulged only in debased, hateful ways, she burst into tears.
She knew, even in that moment of passion, that she did not
love him; but not love itself can move the heart more deeply
than gratitude and her bruised heart was so grateful for his
words and tones and gestures of affection!

Wednesday afternoon, on the way to Brent's house, she glanced
up at the clock in the corner tower of the Grand Central
Station. It lacked five minutes of three. She walked slowly,
timed herself so accurately that, as the butler opened the
door, a cathedral chime hidden somewhere in the upper interior
boomed the hour musically. The man took her direct to the
elevator, and when it stopped at the top floor, Brent himself
opened the door, as before. He was dismissing a short fat man
whom Susan placed as a manager, and a tall, slim, and most
fashionably dressed woman with a beautiful insincere
face--anyone would have at once declared her an actress,
probably a star. The woman gave Susan a searching, feminine
look which changed swiftly to superciliousness. Both the man
and the woman were loath to go, evidently had not finished
what they had come to say. But Brent, in his abrupt but
courteous way, said:

"Tomorrow at four, then. As you see, my next appointment has
begun." And he had them in the elevator with the door closed.
He turned upon Susan the gaze that seemed to take in
everything. "You are in better spirits, I see," said he.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted," said she. "I could have waited."

"But _I_ couldn't," replied he. "Some day you'll discover
that your time is valuable, and that to waste it is far
sillier than if you were to walk along throwing your money
into the gutter. Time ought to be used like money--spent
generously but intelligently." He talked rapidly on, with his
manner as full of unexpressed and inexpressible intensity as
the voice of the violin, with his frank egotism that had no
suggestion of vanity or conceit. "Because I systematize my
time, I'm never in a hurry, never at a loss for time to give
to whatever I wish. I didn't refuse to keep you waiting for
your sake but for my own. Now the next hour belongs to you
and me--and we'll forget about time--as, if we were dining in
a restaurant, we'd not think of th