“Not quite yet! But the work is progressing splendidly, all except----” He paused. It had never been his habit to talk to her, and the complicated details of business he regarded as beyond the intelligent apprehension of any woman. But as Ida moved closer to him with wide-open eyes she looked intelligent enough to understand anything, and a letter received that morning had been on his mind ever since. “There is some trouble about the railroad,” he said. “The Land Company was to build it, but either doesn’t want the bother or really has lost a lot of money, as it claims. I placed a deed in escrow which pledges me to build it if the Land Company failed to keep its agreement; and the seed houses, which bought several large blocks of land, and a number of private settlers are demanding that the railroad be begun--it was to be finished at the end of a year----” Ida saw her opportunity and grasped it. “We both must do our duty, and not monopolise each other,” she said hurriedly. “But tell me all about it after they have gone. Now, go and dance with Kitty Collier. She’s the best-looking woman in Butte. I can’t dance in this harness, but I’ll talk English politics with my portlier guests.” As he smiled and moved toward the music, she laid her hand lightly on his arm. “I want to thank you for coming tonight, Gregory,” she said. “It means a great deal to me socially. Besides, it is good to see you again.” And this time she looked very sweet; but there was a slight aloofness in her manner, as if to admonish him that, although he was forgiven, there was still a breach which it was for him to close. Then she added lightly: “Well, we’ll talk it all over later. Go, now, and dance.” * * * * * Gregory stood by the front door talking to two of the men, whose wives had walked on; their homes were but a door or two away. Ida ran up the stairs to Ora’s room, where they unhooked each other. “You look tired,” said Ida, sympathetically. “Oh, I am tired,” replied Ora, her arms hanging. “Tired. Tired.” “It’s a long while since you danced like that. Just drop into bed. Lend me a scarf, will you?” She covered her opened gown with the lace and walked slowly over to her room. Then she suddenly turned back to the head of the stairs. The three men were still talking below. “Gregory,” she called, and her voice was very sweet. “Yes?” “Lock up, will you? The servants have gone to bed.” “I will.”