she would always have that which a woman, ungained, maintains over a man who has long looked upon her with desire.
Ralph Armiston saluted Lew's departure with heartfelt Thank Gods, for it gave Ralph what he most required—time. "Howarths are warming to us, but we can't force the fire," he said to Ellen. "Mr. Lew Alban hasn't the least idea we've a chance to cook a cake with Howarths or he'd have cut our throats before sailing, weary as he was of welldoings. Now unless he's a thoroughly gratuitous liar, we have six weeks."
It was at the end of the fifth that he returned to the office, late in the day, and instructed Ellen:
"Wire, please, my brother-in-law to come on, and not to wire his partner at the pumps that he's coming. I want him to drop in on Lyman Howarth. Something is nearly ripe to pick."
Ellen wired and received the response: to-morrow he was coming. Lew Alban was on the sea, four days away, aboard a great French liner.
Ellen made no alteration of her dress for the meeting with Jay. In the morning, she arose earlier—she had awakened at dawn—and she had taken more time to her hair; more time to her hands, which were losing their summer brown in this New York November; time, also, to tiny, freshening trifles; but she slipped into the blue dress which she had bought, a month ago, for the office.
He might come to the office direct from the train; he might, she realized, go to Mrs. Lytle's. She had no idea
