For an instant, Mr. Warner's fine, incisive geniality did not change. Then suddenly it broke into a look of sympathetic understanding. "I am sorry, Miss Ayer," he declared gravely, "I am indeed sorry." His clergyman aspect was for the moment in the ascendent. He might have been talking from the pulpit. His voice took its oratorical tone. "It seems incredible that men should do such things--incredible. But one must, I suppose, make allowances. A rural type alone in a great city and surrounded by all the intoxicating aspects of that city. It undoubtedly unbalanced him. Moreover, Miss Ayer, I may say without flattery that you are more than attractive. And then, he is unaccustomed to drinking--" "Oh, he had not drunk anything to speak of," Susannah interrupted. "A little claret at dinner. He had ordered champagne, but this ... this episode occurred before it came." "Incredible!" again murmured Mr. Warner. "Inexplicable!" he added. He paused for a moment. "You wish me to see that he apologizes?" "I don't ask that. I am only telling you so that you may understand why I can never speak to him again. For of course I don't want to see him as long as I live. I thought perhaps ... that if he comes here again ... you might manage so that he doesn't enter through my office." "We can probably manage that," Mr. Warner agreed urbanely. "Of course we can manage that. He is, you see, a prospective client, and a very profitable one. We must continue to do business with him as usual." "Oh, of course!" gasped Susannah. "Please don't think I'm trying to interfere with your business. I understand perfectly. It is only that I--but of course you understand. I don't want to see him again." She rose. Her lithe figure came up to the last inch of its height; the attitude gave her the effect of a column. Her head was like a glowing alabaster lamp set at the top of that column. All the trouble had faded out of her face. The set, scarlet lines in her mouth had melted to their normal scarlet curves. The light had come back in a brilliant flood to her turquoise eyes. In this uprush of spirit, her red hair seemed even to bristle and to glisten. She sparkled visibly. "And now, I guess I'll get back to work," she said. "Oh, by the way, I found in my mail this morning a letter addressed, not to the women's department, but to the firm. I opened it, but of course by accident." Mr. Warner drew the letter from its envelope, began casually running through it. The conversation seemed now to be ended; Susannah moved toward the door. From his perusal of the letter, Mr. Warner stabbed at her back with one quick, alarmed glance, and: "Oh, Miss Ayer, don't go yet," he said. His tone was a little tense and sharp. But he continued to peruse the letter. As he finished the last page, he looked up. Again, his tone seemed peculiar; and he hesitated before he spoke. "Er--did you make out the signature on this?" he asked. "No--it puzzled me," replied Susannah.