Reluctantly he loosed her, and standing well beyond his reach, she shook her shapely head, and down, down fell the heavy coils, past shoulder and waist and hip, rippling in shining splendour to her knees. Then, while he gazed spellbound by her loveliness she laughed a little unsteadily, and flushing beneath his look, turned and fled from him to the door; when he would have followed she stayed him. "Please," she said, tender-voiced, "I want to be alone--it is all so wonderful, I want to be alone and--think." "I may see you again to-night, Hermione? Dear--I must." "Why, if you must," she said, "how can I--prevent you?" Then, all at once, her cool, soft arms were about his neck, had drawn him down to meet her kiss, and--he was alone with the pastry board, the rolling-pin and the flour-dredger--but he saw them all through a golden glory, and when he somehow found himself out upon the dingy landing, the glory was all about him still. CHAPTER XVII HOW GEOFFREY RAVENSLEE MADE A DEAL IN REAL ESTATE The morning sun blazed down, and Tenth Avenue was full of noise and dust and heat; children screamed and played and fought together, carts rumbled past, distant street cars clanged their bells, the sidewalks were full of the stir and bustle of Saturday; but Ravenslee went his way heedless of all this, even of the heat, for before his eyes was the vision of a maid's shy loveliness, and he thrilled anew at the memory of two warm lips. Thus he strode unheeding through the jostling throng at a speed very different from his ordinary lounging gait. Very soon he came to a small drug-store, weather-beaten and grimy of exterior but very bright within, where everything seemed in a perpetual state of glitter, from the multitudinous array of bottles and glassware upon the shelves to the taps and knobs of the soda fountain. Yet nowhere was there anything quite so bright as the shrewd, twinkling eyes of the little grey-haired man who greeted Ravenslee with a cheery nod. "Hot enough?" he enquired. "Quite!" answered Ravenslee. "Goin' to be hotter." "Afraid so." "Rough on th' kiddies, an' ice goin' up. Which reminds me I sent on the mixture you ordered for little Hazel Bowker." "Good," nodded Ravenslee. "And the pills to Mrs. Sims." "Good again." "An' the sleeping-draught for old Martin Finlay." "Good once more." "Won't last long, old Martin, I guess. Never been the same since little Maggie drowned herself, poor child. What d'ye want this morning?" "First to pay for the medicine," said Ravenslee, laying a five-dollar bill on the counter, "and then the use of your 'phone." "Right there," said the chemist, nodding toward a certain shady corner, where, remote from all intruding bustle, was a telephone booth into which Ravenslee stepped forthwith and where ensued the following one-sided conversation: Ravenslee. "Hello!" Telephone. "Buzz!" Ravenslee. "Hello, Central, give me Thirty-three Wall, please." Telephone. "Ting-a-ling--buzz!"