advantage of the short pause to resume her work. No, she had not the
faintest interest in him. It wasn't a trick of coquetry; it was genuine.
He whom women had always bowed before was unable to arouse in her a
spark of interest. She cared neither for what he had nor for what he
was, in himself. This offended and wounded him. He struggled sulkily
with his papers for half an hour. Then he fell to watching her again
and----

"You must not neglect to give me your address," he said. "Write it on a
slip of paper after you finish. I might forget it."

"Very well," she replied, but did not turn round.

"Why, do you think, did Tetlow come to see you?" he asked. He felt
cheapened in his own eyes--he, the great man, the arrived man, the
fiance of Josephine Burroughs, engaged in this halting and sneaking
flirtation! But he could not restrain himself.

She turned to answer. "Mr. Tetlow works very hard and has few friends.
He had heard of my father and wanted to meet him--just like you."

"Naturally," murmured Norman, in confusion. "I thought--perhaps--he was
interested in _you_."

She laughed outright--and he had an entrancing view of the clean rosy
interior of her mouth. "In _me_?--Mr. Tetlow? Why, he's too serious and
important for a girl like me."

"Then he bored you?"