He slipped the letter into his breast pocket and went on with the interview, his face as somber as ever. But all that day it seemed to the watchful Jonas that the Secretary seemed less tired than he had been for weeks. There was a little balcony at the Ashton, just big enough for a table for two, and shielded from the view of the main dining-room by palms. It was set well out from the second floor, overlooking a quiet park. Enoch was in the habit of dining here with various men with whom he wished semi-privacy yet whom he did not care to entertain at his own home. Diana was more than charmed by the arrangement. The corners of her mouth deepened as if she were also amused, but Enoch, engrossed in seating her where the light exactly suited him, did not note the curving lips. He did not know much about women's dress, but he liked Diana's soft white gown, and the curious turquoise necklace she wore interested him. He asked her about it. "Na-che gave it to me," she said. "It was her mother's. It has no special significance beyond the fact that the workmanship is very fine and that the tracery on the silver means joy." "Joy? What sort of joy?" asked Enoch. "Is there more than one sort?" countered Diana, in the bantering voice that Enoch always fancied was half tender. "Oh, yes!" replied the Secretary. "There's joy in work, play, friends. There are as many kinds of joy as there are kinds of sorrow. Only sorrow is so much more persistent than joy! A sorrow can stay by one forever. But joys pass. They are always short lived." "Joy in work does not pass, Mr. Secretary," said Diana. Enoch laid down his spoon. "Please, Miss Allen, don't Mr. Secretary me any more." Diana merely smiled. "Granted that one has a real friend, I believe joy in friendship is permanent," she went on. "I hope you're right," said Enoch quietly. "We'll see, you and I." Diana did not reply. She was, perhaps, a little troubled by Enoch's calm and persistent declaration of principles. It is not easy for a woman even of Diana's poise and simple sincerity to keep in order a gentleman as distinguished and as courteous and as obviously in earnest as Enoch. Finally, "Do you mind talking your own shop, Mr. Huntingdon?" she asked. "Not at all," replied Enoch eagerly. "Is there some aspect of my work that interests you?" "I imagine that all of it would," said Diana. "But I was not thinking of your work as a Cabinet Official. I was thinking of you as Police Commissioner of New York." Enoch looked surprised. "Father wrote to me the other day," Diana went on, "and asked me to send him the collection of your speeches. I bought it at Brentano's and I don't mind telling you that it pinched the Johnstown lunches a good bit to do so, but it was worth it, for I read the book before mailing it." "You're not hinting that I ought to reimburse you, are you?" demanded Enoch, with a delighted chuckle.