Through it all the idea that Miss Knapp was regarding me with a hidden disapproval was growing on me. I decided that Henry had made some uncommon blunder on his last visit and that I was suffering the penalty for it. The admiration I felt for the young woman deepened with every sentence she spoke, and I was ready to do anything to restore the good opinion that Henry might have endangered, and in lieu of apology exerted myself to the utmost to be agreeable. I was unconscious of the flight of time until Mrs. Knapp turned from some other guests and walked toward us. “Come, Henry,” she said pointedly, “Luella is not to monopolize you all the time. Besides, there's Mr. Inman dying to speak to her.” I promptly hated Mr. Inman with all my heart and felt not the slightest objection to his demise; but at her gesture of command I rose and accompanied Mrs. Knapp, as a young man with eye-glasses and a smirk came to take my place. I left Luella Knapp, congratulating myself over my cleverness in escaping the pitfalls that lined my way. “Now I've a chance to speak to you at last,” said Mrs. Knapp. “At your service,” I bowed. “I owe you something.” “Indeed?” Mrs. Knapp raised her eyebrows in surprise. “For your kind recommendation to Mr. Knapp.” “My recommendation? You have a little the advantage of me.” I was stricken with painful doubts, and the cold sweat started upon me. Perhaps this was not Mrs. Knapp after all. “Oh, perhaps you didn't mean it,” I said. “Indeed I did, if it was a recommendation. I'm afraid it was unconscious, though. Mr. Knapp does not consult me about his business.” I was in doubt no longer. It was the injured pride of the wife that spoke in the tone. “I'm none the less obliged,” I said carelessly. “He assured me that he acted on your words.” “What on earth are you doing for Mr. Knapp?” she asked earnestly, dropping her half-bantering tone. There was a trace of apprehension in her eyes. “I'm afraid Mr. Knapp wouldn't think your recommendations were quite justified if I should tell you. Just get him in a corner and ask him.” “I suppose it is that dreadful stock market.” “Oh, madam, let me say the chicken market. There is a wonderful opportunity just now for a corner in fowls.” “There are a good many to be plucked in the market that Mr. Knapp will look after,” she said with a smile. But there was something of a worried look behind it. “Oh, you know, Henry, that I can't bear the market. I have seen too much of the misery that has come from it. It can eat up a fortune in an hour. A dear friend saw her home, the house over her head, all she possessed, go in a breath on a turn of the cards in that dreadful place. And her husband left her to face it with two little children. The coward escaped it with a bullet through his head, after he had brought ruin on his home and family.” She shuddered as she looked about her, as though in fancy she saw herself turned from the palace into the street.