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It was wonderful, he
reflected, what the friendship of a woman could mean to a man. He
was quite convinced that it was only friendship.
He turned toward home reluctantly. Behind him was the glow of
Audrey's fire, and the glow that had been in her eyes when he
entered. If a man had such a woman behind him...
He went into his great, silent house, and the door closed behind
him like a prison gate.
For a long time after he had gone, Audrey, doors closed to visitors,
sat alone by her fire, with one of his roses held close to her cheek.
In her small upper room, in a white frame cottage on the hill
overlooking the Spencer furnaces, Anna Klein, locked away from
prying eyes, sat that same Christmas evening and closely inspected
a tiny gold wrist-watch. And now and then, like Audrey, she pressed
it to her face.
Not the gift, but the giver.


CHAPTER XIV
Having turned Dunbar and his protective league over to Hutchinson,
the general manager, Clayton had put him out of his mind.


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