He went on then with some hurried directions about the different accounts to be changed and then, without troubling to shout at her again, he turned and slipped away. She had found him out, then, the very first day--Mr. Jepson had an understanding with L. W.! She retired to her room to think it over and then went systematically to work on the books, but these seemed scrupulously correct. The influence of Stoddard, that apostle of thoroughness, was apparent throughout the office; for Jepson well knew that the day was coming when he must render an account to his master. The books were correct, yet she could hardly believe the marvellous production they recorded. Her share alone--a poor one per cent. of all that enormous profit--would keep her in comfort for the rest of her life; she need never work again. But as the days went by and the yearly profit was reduced to dollars and cents; as she looked over the statement from L. W.'s bank and saw the money piling up to their credit; the first thrill of joy gave way to fear--of Stoddard, and what he might do. With interests so vast lying unprotected what could restrain his ruthless hand? And yet there was Rimrock, wrecking his life in New York and letting her watch their mine alone! A wave of resentment rose up at the thought--it was the old hatred that she tried to fight down--and she clasped her hands and gazed straight ahead as she beheld in a vision, the woman! A lank rag of a woman, a Kipling's vampire, who lived by the blood of strong men! And to think that she should have fastened on Rimrock, who was once so faithful and true! For the thousandth time there rose up in her mind the old Rimrock as she had seen him first--a lean, sunburned man on a buckskin horse with a pistol slung at his hip; a desert miner, clean, laughing, eager, following on after his dream of riches. But now, soft and fat, in top hat and diamonds, swaggering past with that woman on his arm! It would be a blessing for them both if Stoddard should jump the mine and put them back where they were before--he a hardy prospector; and she a poor typist, with a dream! But the dream was gone, destroyed forever, and all she could do was to fight on. As she waited for his letter from day to day, Mary Fortune thought incessantly of Rimrock. She went out to the mine and gazed at the great workings where men appeared no larger than ants. She watched the ore being scooped up with steam shovels and dropped load by load into cars; she saw it crushed and pulverized and washed and the concentrates dumped into more cars; and then the endless chain of copper going out and the trainloads of supplies coming in. It was his, if he would come to it; every man would obey him; his orders would tear down a mountain; and yet he chose to grow fat and sordid, he preferred that woman to her!