She reached the Events building, in which Mr. Atherton had his office, just as a lady drove away in her coupé. It was Miss Kingsbury, who made a point of transacting all business matters with her lawyer at his office, and of keeping her social relations with him entirely distinct, as she fancied, by this means. She was only partially successful, but at least she never talked business with him at her house, and doubtless she would not have talked anything else with him at his office, but for that increasing dependence upon him in everything which she certainly would not have permitted herself if she had realized it. As it was, she had now come to him in a state of nervous exaltation, which was not business-like. She had been greatly shocked by Ben Halleck's sudden freak; she had sympathized with his family till she herself felt the need of some sort of condolence, and she had promised herself this consolation from Atherton's habitual serenity. She did not know what to do when he received her with what she considered an impatient manner, and did not seem at all glad to see her. There was no reason why he should be glad to see a lady calling on business, and no doubt he often found her troublesome, but he had never shown it before. She felt like crying at first; then she passed through an epoch of resentment, and then through a period of compassion for him. She ended by telling him with dignified severity that she wanted some money: they usually made some jokes about her destitution when she came upon that errand. He looked surprised and vexed, and “I have spent what you gave me last month,” she explained. “Then you wish to anticipate the interest on your bonds?” “Certainly not,” said Clara, rather sharply. “I wish to have the interest up to the present time.” “But I told you,” said Atherton, and he could not, in spite of himself, help treating her somewhat as a child, “I told you then that I was paying you the interest up to the first of November. There is none due now. Didn't you understand that?” “No, I didn't understand,” answered Clara. She allowed herself to add, “It is very strange!” Atherton struggled with his irritation, and made no reply. “I can't be left without money,” she continued. “What am I to do without it?” she demanded with an air of unanswerable argument. “Why, I _must_ have it!” “I felt that I ought to understand you fully,” said Atherton, with cold politeness. “It's only necessary to know what sum you require.” Clara flung up her veil and confronted him with an excited face. “Mr. Atherton, I don't wish a _loan_; I can't _permit_ it; and you know that my principles are entirely against anticipating interest.” Atherton, from stooping over his table, pencil in hand, leaned back in his chair, and looked at her with a smile that provoked her: “Then may I ask what you wish me to do?”