when they're not wrong and they won't hurt anybody--this riding,
for instance."

She played nervously with a pencil for a time, as if debating her
reply, while he waited patiently.

"This riding," she began; "it's not what they call the right thing.
I leave it to you. You know the world. You are Mr. Harnish, the
millionaire--"

"Gambler," he broke in harshly

She nodded acceptance of his term and went on.

"And I'm a stenographer in your office--"

"You're a thousand times better than me--" he attempted to
interpolate, but was in turn interrupted.

"It isn't a question of such things. It's a simple and fairly
common situation that must be considered. I work for you. And
it isn't what you or I might think, but what other persons will
think. And you don't need to be told any more about that. You
know yourself."

Her cool, matter-of-fact speech belied her--or so Daylight
thought, looking at her perturbed feminineness, at the rounded
lines of her figure, the breast that deeply rose and fell, and at
the color that was now excited in her cheeks.