"About the paper?" she asked. "It is simply," he answered, "a sheet of foolscap. I will not tell you exactly what is written upon it, but it contains a proposal with reference to raising a certain sum of money, to remove from office certain prominent politicians who are supporting this Anti-Trust Bill. Our names are all there, Bardsley's, Weiss', Seth Higgins', and my own. Your father's should have been there, but I believe he was too clever for us." She began drawing on her gloves. "Well," she said, "I have had a delightful morning, thanks to you, and these roses are lovely. Supposing I should feel that my gratitude still requires some expression, where could I write you?" He handed her a card, which she tucked into her muff. They left the restaurant together, talking again of the people whom they passed, of the play at the theatre, of which they were reminded by the sight of a popular actress, and other indifferent matters. He offered his automobile, which she declined. "I am going to make a call quite close to here," she said. "Good-bye!" "I hope that I shall hear from you soon," he said, bowing over her hand. "You may," she answered, smiling, as she turned away. CHAPTER X MR. NORRIS VINE Stella walked briskly down Fifth Avenue and turned into Broadway. Here she took a car down town, and presented herself in the space of twenty minutes or so before the offices of Mr. Norris Vine, at the top of a great flight of stairs in a building near Madison Square. Vine himself opened the door, and led her through the clerk's office into his own small but luxurious apartment. "You were just going out?" she asked. "It is no matter," he answered. "I have at least half an hour that I can spare." He led her to his easy-chair, and seated himself in the chair before his desk. The sunshine fell upon his thin, somewhat hard face, and she looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you getting older, Norris?" she asked, "or are things going the wrong way with you just now?" He raised his eyebrows. "It is a very strenuous life this," he remarked. "One has to crush all one's nervous instincts, and when one has succeeded in doing that, one finds oneself a little aged." She nodded. "You look like that," she said. "You look as though a good many of the fires had burned out, and left you--well, something of a machine. Is it worth while?" "I don't know," he answered listlessly. "You ought to go to Europe more often," she said softly. "I do not understand how men can make the slaves of themselves that you do here. Don't you long sometimes to feel your feet off the treadmill?" "Perhaps," he answered; "but the life here becomes like one of those pernicious habits of cigarette smoking, or morphia taking. It grips hold of you--grips hold very tight," he added in a lower tone. "I wonder," she said, "whether there is anything in the world which would tempt you to break away from it."