window. "It's a wonder we're getting things
done at all."

Hilda's eye, roaming over the folded newspaper, fell on the weather
forecast.

"Fair to-morrow," she said, "and colder."

"That doesn't stand for much. They said the same thing yesterday. It's a
worse gamble than wheat."

Bannon took to walking again; and Hilda stepped down and stood by the
window, spelling out the word "Calumet" with her finger on the misty
glass. At each turn, Bannon paused and looked at her. Finally he stood
still, not realizing that he was staring until she looked around,
flushed, and dropped her eyes. Then he felt awkward, and he began
turning over the blue prints on the table.

"I'll tell you what I'll have to do," he said. "I rather think now I'll
start on the third for Montreal. I'm telling you a secret, you know. I'm
not going to let Brown or MacBride know where I'll be. And if I can pick
up some good pictures of the river, I'll send them to you. I'll get one
of the Montmorency Falls, if I can. They're great in winter."

"Why--why, thank you," she said. "I'd like to have them."

"I ain't much at writing letters," he went on, "but I'll send you the
pictures, and you write and tell me how things are going."

She laughed softly, and followed the zigzag course of the raindrop with
her finger.

"I wouldn't have very much to say," she said, speaking with a little
hesitation, and without looking around. "Max and I never do much."

"Oh, you can tell how your work goes, and what you do nights."

"We don't do much of anything. Max studies some at night--a man he used
to work for gave him a book of civil engineering."

"What do you do?"

"I read some, and then I like to learn things about--oh, about business,
and how things are done."

Bannon could not take his eyes from her--he was looking at her hair, and
at the curved outline of one cheek, all that he could see of her face.
They both stood still, listening to the patter of the rain, and to the
steady drip from the other end of the office, where there was a leak in
the roof. Once she cleared her throat, as if to speak, but no words
came.

There was a stamping outside, and she slipped back to the ledger, as the
door flew open. Bannon turned to the blue prints.

Max entered, pausing to knock his cap against the door, and wring it
out.

"You ought to have stayed out, Mr. Bannon," he said. "It's the greatest
thing you ever saw--doesn't sag an inch. And say--I wish you could hea