ry for keeping life orderly,"
said Hal.

"I suppose so. But I don't know that I like things too orderly. My
teacher called me a lawless little demon, once, and I guess I still am.
Suppose I should break all the rules of the office? Would you fire me?"
And before he could answer she was up and had flashed away.

As the intimacy grew, Hal found himself looking forward to these
swift-winged little visits. They made a welcome break in the detailed
drudgery; added to the day a glint of color, bright like the ripple of
half-hidden flame that crowned Milly's head. Once Veltman, intruding on
their talk, had glared blackly and, withdrawing, had waited for the girl
in the hallway outside from whence, as she left, Hal could hear the
foreman's deep voice in anger and her clear replies tauntingly
stimulating his chagrin.

Having neglected the Willards for several days, Hal received a telephone
message, about a month after Esme Elliot's departure, asking him to stop
in. He found Mrs. Willard waiting him in the conservatory. His old
friend looked up as he entered, with a smile which did not hide the
trouble in her eyes.

"Aren't you a lily-of-the-field!" admired the visitor, contemplating her
green and white costume.

"It's the Vanes' dance. Not going?"

"Not asked. Besides, I'm a workingman these days."

"So one might infer from your neglect of your friends. Hal, I've had a
letter from Esme Elliot."

"Any message?" he asked lightly, but with startled blood.

There was no answering lightness in her tones. "Yes. One I hate to give.
Hal, she's engaged herself to Will Douglas. It must have been by letter,
for she wasn't engaged when she left. 'Tell Hal Surtaine' she says in
her letter to me."

"Thank you, Lady Jinny," said Hal.

The diminutive lady looked at him and then looked away, and suddenly a
righteous flush rose on her cheeks.

"I'm fond of Esme," she declared. "One can't help but be. She compels
it. But where men are concerned she seems to have no sense of her power
to hurt. I could _kill_ her for making me her messenger. Hal, boy," she
rose, slipping an arm through his caressingly, "I do hope you're not
badly hurt."

"I'll get over it, Lady Jinny. There's the job, you know."

He started for the office. Then, abruptly, as he went, "the job" seemed
purposeless. Unrealized, hope had still persisted in his heart--the hope
that, by some possible turn of circumstance, the shattered ideal of Esme
Elliot would be revi