The element of chance was not to be eliminated. It must be faced. On her way to the office of the Line she had first affected, she saw swinging on in front of her, hands in overcoat pockets, shouldering his way through the throng, one of those same high-booted, wide-hatted men of whom she had said at first, “He’s going, too!” But this man had been marked out by his air of enjoying the enterprise. Most people, even away from the maddening water front, bore about with them a harassed, or at best, preoccupied countenance, the majority sallow and seamed and weary. This wide-mouthed young giant with the fresh complexion—he was one of whom you felt not only “he knows,” but “he knows it’s all right.” Now, if he should be on his way to secure a passage at this same office, Hildegarde would take it as a lucky omen. But he carried his tall figure swinging by. His back seemed to say, “No, thank you. I know too much to be taken in by the _Golden Sands Company_.” Hildegarde went past the Golden Sands Company herself, without quite intending to. The ruddy-complexioned one was stopped by a fussy little, middle-aged man, who said, “Wonder if you can tell me where the Centrifugal Pump Company’s offices are?” “What?” says the red-cheeked giant as Hildegarde went by. “You mean Mitchell, Lewis and Starver?” “Y-yes,” said the fussy man. “Are they all right, do you think?” and the rest was lost. What a pity she couldn’t go up as simply as that, and ask his Giantship about the boats. But no. He was a rather young giant, and a little too enterprising-looking. No, better not. He stared at people. That wasn’t the sort of man she’d ever spoken to. She hadn’t analyzed it, but with all her simplicity and all her sense of freedom, she was acutely sensitive about making any avoidable move that might be misconstrued. The unfortunate women of the world had spoiled things. Not only for themselves—for others, too. She crossed the street and went back toward the “Golden Sands.” Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the giant part from his interlocutor and disappear in the office of Hankin & Company. So that was the best line! Slowly she retraced her steps, turning over in her mind all she’d heard about Hankin & Company. Perhaps even without this last indication the evidence did point Hankinward. She went in. Craning over heads, and peering across shoulders she saw the huge young man talking to the agent. She edged her way nearer. “You’ll have plenty o’ time to load your stuff. The _Congress_’ll be at the docks Toosday.” “Sure?” “Dead certain.”