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The one woman in the world for him. It was as
though all his life he had been searching for her, and he had
found her, and it was too late. She knew it, too. It was in her
very eyes.
"I have wanted to come, terribly," he said finally. And when she
held out her hand to him, he bent down and kissed it.
"Then that's settled," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. "And now
I'll tell you about Clare. I'm rather proud of her."
"Clare?"
The tension had been so great that he had forgotten the blonde girl
entirely.
"Do you remember the night I got a hundred dollars from you? And
later on, that I asked you for work in your mill for the girl I got
it for?"
"Do you mean?" He looked at her in surprise.
"That was the girl. You see, she rather holds onto me. It's awful
in a way, too. It looks as though I am posing as magnanimous. I'm
not, Clay. If I had cared awfully it would have been different.
But then, if I had cared awfully, perhaps it would never have
happened.


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