That old thrill of belonging to the building--that woman in furs stepping off at the dentist's floor was eying her curiously--the thrill of expanding into part of this complicated, intricate, impersonal life. Her office again, long, narrow, caging the sunlight between its shelved walls, and the stenographer rising in a little flurry. "I'll call Dr. Roberts. He was expecting you, I think." Catherine looked out of her window. No one in the fitting room opposite; she could see the sweep of draped fabrics. "Mrs. Hammond! I am delighted to see you." Dr. Roberts bustled toward her, his bearded face cordial, his gestures animated, fidgety. "I wondered how soon you would be in. I should have called you soon. Your little boy has recovered?" "Yes." Catherine sat down. "Such a pity. Poor little chap. And calling you back. I must tell you how admirable your investigation is. We've had several letters from people whom you met. You handled them admirably, interested them without antagonizing them. Well, you are ready now to finish the tour?" "You have sent no one else?" Catherine was cold. That jellyfish in her head was a flabby lump left by the tide. "No. I want you to go back." His eyes, small, keen, searched hers. She sighed faintly. "I can't do it." She was startled at the finality in her own words. "I can't go away, Dr. Roberts. Not--again." He showed no surprise. "Your letters," he suggested. "They sounded enthusiastic." "It was fascinating." There was pain in the folding down of her long eyelids. "But I can't go away. I--" she smiled briefly. "I've lost my nerve. I can't risk what might happen." "The children, you mean?" "Yes." "Um. A pity. Accidents happen, anyway. But of course you have thought of that." He drummed busily with his fingers along the desk. Catherine straightened her shoulders. She could think clearly now; evidently the jellyfish had existed just for that one decision. "I had hoped there wouldn't be a chance for me to go away again. I thought you might have sent someone else, and that you'd want me here in the office. You see--the glimpse I had of the real colleges gives enormous vitality to all these catalogues. I'd like to go on, if I could do it right here." When had she thought that? Astonishing, the way ideas burst out from some deep level, and you recognized them as authentic. "A pity." Dr. Roberts clasped his hands, twisting his fingers in and out. Here's the church, and here's the steeple, thought Catherine, as if she played the finger game for Letty. "I was afraid of it. But if you will come back, handle the work here--I like the way you write up the material." He clapped one palm on the desk. "Let me think it over. I suppose I might finish the trip myself. I am free now--those meetings have come off." "There's this check." Catherine took it out of her handbag. "For a month, at the new rate."