above the false
fireplace. Percy lay inert in the Morris chair and watched her. Yes,
he understood; it was very difficult for a woman with hair like that
to be shabby and to go without things. Her hair made her
conspicuous, and it had to be lived up to. It had been the deciding
factor in his fate.

Stella caught the lace over one ear with a large gold hairpin. She
repeated this until she got a good effect. Then turning to Percy,
she began to draw on her gloves.

"I'm not worrying any, because I'm going back into business," she
said firmly. "I meant to, anyway, if you didn't get a raise the
first of the year. I have the offer of a good position, and we can
live in an apartment hotel."

Percy was on his feet in an instant.

"I won't have you grinding in any office. That's flat."

Stella's lower lip quivered in a commiserating smile. "Oh, I won't
lose my health. Charley Greengay's a partner in his concern now, and
he wants a private secretary."

Percy drew back.

"You can't work for Greengay. He's got too bad a reputation. You've
more pride than that, Stella."

The thin sweep of color he knew so well went over Stella's face.

"His business reputation seems to be all right," she commented,
working the kid on with her left hand.

"What if it is?" Percy broke out. "He's the cheapest kind of a
skate. He gets into scrapes with the girls in his own office. The
last one got into the newspapers, and he had to pay the girl a wad."

"He don't get into scrapes with his books, anyway, and he seems to
be able to stand getting into the papers. I excuse Charley. His
wife's a pill."

"I suppose you think he'd have been all right if he'd married you,"
said Percy, bitterly.

"Yes, I do." Stella buttoned her glove with an air of finishing
something, and then looked at Percy without animosity. "Charley and
I both have sporty tastes, and we like excitement. You might as well
live in Newark if you're going to sit at home in the evening. You
oughtn't to have married a business woman; you need somebody
domestic. There's nothing in this sort of life for either of us."

"That means, I suppose, that you're going around with Greengay and
his crowd?"

"Yes, that's my sort of crowd, and you never did fit into it. You're
too intellectual. I've always been proud of you, Percy. You're
better style than Charley, but that gets tiresome. You will never
burn much red fire in New York, now, will you?"

Percy did not reply. He sat looking