During the summer the O'Valley Leather Company discovered that Mary Faithful made quite as efficient a manager as Steve O'Valley himself. Nor did she neglect any of a multitude of petty details--such as the amount of ice needed for the water cooler, the judicious issue of office supplies; the innovation of a rest-room for girls metamorphosed out of a hitherto dingy storeroom; the eradication of friction between two ancient bookkeepers who had come to regard the universe as against them. Even the janitor's feelings were appeased by a few kind words and a crossing of his palm with silver when Mary decided to houseclean before Steve's return. It is impossible for a business woman not to have feminine notions. They stray into her routine existence like blades of pale grass persistently shooting up between the cracks of paving blocks. Quite frilly curtains adorned Mary's office windows, fresh flowers were kept in a fragile vase, a marble bust of Dante guarded the filing cabinet, and despite the general cleaning she used a special little silk duster for her own knicknacks. On a table was a very simple tea service with a brass samovar for days when the luncheon hour proved too stormy for an outside excursion. Sharing Steve with the Gorgeous Girl, Mary had decided to clean his business home just as the Gorgeous Girl would have the apartment set in spick-and-span order. It was during the general upsetting with brooms, mops, paint pots, and what not, while Mary good-naturedly tried to work at a standing desk, that Mark Constantine dropped in unexpectedly. "Gad!" he began, characteristically. "Thought I'd find you in your cool and hospitable office inviting me to have a siesta." He mopped his face with a huge silk handkerchief. "Try it in a few days and we will be quite shipshape." Mary wheeled up a chair for him. "Anything I can do for you?" He sank down with relief; his fast-accumulating flesh made him awkward and fond of lopping down at unexpected intervals. He glanced up at this amazing young woman, crisp and cool in her blue muslin dress, the tiny gold watch in a black silk guard being her only ornament. His brows drew into what appeared to be a forbidding frown; he really liked Mary, with her steady eyes somehow suggesting eternity and her funny freckled nose destroying any such notion. "How are you getting on?" was all he said. "Splendidly. We expect Mr. O'Valley a week from Monday--but of course you know that yourself." "Gad," Constantine repeated. "And how is Mr. Constantine?" Mary asked, almost graciously.