Truax's belief that he was several
planes above ordinary humanity, were desirable or necessary parts of the
life at Truax & Fein's. Here, too, she saw nine hours of daily strain
aging slim girls into skinny females. But now her whole point of view
was changed. Instead of looking for the evils of the business world, she
was desirous of seeing in it all the blessings she could; and, without
ever losing her belief that it could be made more friendly, she was,
nevertheless, able to rise above her own personal weariness and see that
the world of jobs, offices, business, had made itself creditably
superior to those other muddled worlds of politics and amusement and
amorous Schwirtzes. She believed again, as in commercial college she had
callowly believed, that business was beginning to see itself as
communal, world-ruling, and beginning to be inspired to communal, kingly
virtues and responsibility.

Looking for the good (sometimes, in her joy of escape, looking for it
almost with the joy of an S. Herbert Ross in picking little lucrative
flowers of sentiment along the roadside) she was able to behold more
daily happiness about her.

Fortunately, Truax & Fein's was a good office, not too hard, not too
strained and factional like Pemberton's; not wavering like Troy
Wilkins's. Despite Mr. Truax's tendency to courteous whining, it was
doing its work squarely and quietly. That was fortunate. Offices differ
as much as office-managers, and had chance condemned Una to another
nerve-twanging Pemberton's her slight strength might have broken. She
might have fallen back to Schwirtz and the gutter.

Peaceful as reapers singing on their homeward path now seemed the
teasing voices of men and girls as, in a group, they waited for the
elevator at five-thirty-five. The cheerful, "Good-night, Mrs. Schwirtz!"
was a vesper benediction, altogether sweet with its earnest of rest and
friendship.

Tranquillity she found when she stayed late in the deserted office. Here
no Schwirtz could reach her. Here her toil counted for something in the
world's work--in the making of suburban homes for men and women and
children. She sighed, and her breast felt barren, as she thought of the
children. But tranquillity there was, and a brilliant beauty of the city
as across dark spaces of evening were strung the jewels of light, as in
small, French restaurants sounded desirous violins. On warm evenings of
autumn Una would lean out of the window and be absorbed