“Come in!” she sang out. Her husband entered, smiling. “Oh,” she said, mildly surprised. “I thought it was Taswell. He sent word to ask if he could see me at four. . . . You are home early. Anything special?” “No,” said Joe. “I asked Fletcher to come here at four—I didn’t want him to be seen at my office; and he’s late. So I shall let him cool his heels for a few minutes.” “Something big on hand?” “For him, not for me. The fool wants to sell me his newspapers, now that I’ve stolen their circulation.” “Am I to come down-stairs?” “You can if you want.” “Mercy! I don’t want to see old Fletcher. I just meant, is he to be entertained?” “No,” said Joe curtly. “Fletcher’s on the toboggan.” He consulted a pocket note-book. “By the way, can you save the night of the fourteenth for me? Awful bore, but it would be advisable for us to appear at the reception for Sir Esme Dordress at the Union League.” “Surely,” said Elaine, making a note on her desk-pad. “Who’s he?” “A governor of the Bank of England. . . . _En grande toilette_, my dear, which becomes you so well.” “Thanks. Hardly in the best taste at a club reception, is it?” “Of course not. But all the other women will. We can let it be inferred that we are going on to something else, and get out early. . . . Have one of mine?” “Thanks, I prefer these common ones.” Lighting up, Joe dropped into a deep chair, and stretched his legs luxuriously. “Young Taswell?” he said; “how is he making out with the kid?” “I can’t honestly say that he’s doing Sturges any good,” said Elaine; “but at least he’s doing him no harm.” “Rather a fantastic idea, don’t you think? giving the kid a tutor at the age of six?” “Well, I thought he ought not to be entirely in the hands of women. I have read Pastor Witt’s book on education. It is wonderful what can be done with them at such an age. But of course Sturges is different. . . . I wasn’t thinking of education so much, as of the masculine influence generally.” “I would be no good as a nursery companion,” said Joe. “No use pretending.” “I wasn’t reproaching you,” said Elaine with a clear glance. “He’s a hard little nut, the kid,” said Joe, smiling at some recollection. “So he ought to be at six,” said Elaine quickly. “I shouldn’t think you’d get much literature to stick.” “Don’t expect to. Taswell’s much more than a mere literary person. He’s an athlete. He has a very masculine point of view.” “A gentleman, too,” said Joe agreeably. “Damned handsome fellow!” “Oh yes,” said Elaine indifferently. “. . . I like him very much,” she went on. “He pockets his weekly wage, and keeps his head up. I have him to lunch with me sometimes. He’s interested in so many things. We have good talks.” “I know just what you mean,” said Joe. “Disgusting, isn’t it? the way nearly everybody licks our boots. Takes all the fun out of life. I’d like to be better acquainted with this independent young man.” Elaine offered no comment.