departed from the queenly epithets bestowed upon her she unfailingly found this man's gentle flattery pleasant. It seemed a part of himself and of the man she approved,
"Come in," she invited brightly. "I want to talk with you."
Even as he entered, moving with that slow grace of his which was oddly at variance with the look of his keen, quick eyes, Beatrice found herself vaguely wondering just what it was that made Joe Embry "different." Last night he had been as merry, carefree, inconsequential as the most boyish of her other guests. This morning his serenity was that of a man who had slept his allotted, untroubled hours; his mood seemed one ready for mere banter. And yet, always and always, he brought with him that subtle sense of quiet mastery, of forceful certainty of himself and of fate, which long ago had appealed to something in the girl. If she ever required an adviser she believed that she could turn unhesitatingly to Joe Embry. And yet, what did she really know of him? Only the very little which Joe Embry had given her to understand: that he was of her class socially and financially, at once possessed of what leisure he desired and sufficient money to make more money for him. … He was courteous, even now he unnecessarily tossed away a freshly lighted cigar.
"I await the royal pleasure," he said lightly.
"Yesterday," said Beatrice in the direct fashion of her business moods, "you mentioned a man named William Steele, you called him a crook, you cautioned me
