made his way to the counter for his sandwich and coffee, he
frowned. He had told her that he would surely need her. Now she was
gone. He suddenly recalled that she had not even left her address.

Only two days before he had been discussing with her the final details
of the house awaiting Frances, and she had made him feel that
everything was perfect.

"She will love it," she had assured him.

It was as if he heard her voice again repeating that sentence. Once
again he reacted to her enthusiasm and saw through her eyes. She had
made him feel that money--the kind of money Stuyvesant stood for--was
nonsense. A salary of twelve hundred a year was enough for the
necessities, and yet small enough to give his wife an opportunity to
help.

"When the big success comes," she had said to him, "then Frances can
feel that it is partly her success too. A woman doesn't become a wife
by just marrying a man, does she? It's only when she has a chance to
help that she can feel herself really a wife."

As she said it he felt that to be true, although to him it was a
brand-new point of view.

And Sally Winthrop had given him, in her own life, a new point of
view on woman. He understood that she had never married because she
had never happened to fall in love. She had always been too busy.
But if ever she did fall in love, what a partner she would make!
Partner--that was the word.

"It's in you to get everything in the world you want," she had said
last night, when she was leaving him.

So it was. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and glanced at his
watch. It was shortly after one. He must stay down here another
half-hour--stay around these streets where he had walked with her and
where she had made him see straight--until he had just time to meet
Frances.

He went out and walked past the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves,
and then walked to the Elevated station where she took the train at
night for home. The sight of the steps up which they had climbed
together made him almost homesick. He wished to Heaven that she had
postponed her vacation another day. If only he could see her a few
minutes right now, he would be absolutely sure of himself.

It was after two when he reached the house, but Frances was not ready.
She was never quite ready.

"I'll wait outside," he told the maid.

The maid raised her brows a trifle, but answered civilly:--

"Very well, sir."

As he walked back and forth the Stuyvesant machine also dre