“I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I have!” he said. “If there’s anything I can do for you, give me a ring. Mr. Mills is a regular client of Freeman’s. We’ll doubtless meet in a business way from time to time.” CHAPTER ELEVEN I On a Sunday afternoon a fortnight later Bruce, having been reproved by Dale Freeman for his recent neglect of her, drove to the architect’s house. He had hoped to see Millicent there and was disappointed not to find her. “You expected to see someone in particular!” said Dale. “I can tell by the roving look in your eye.” “I was merely resenting the presence of these other people. My eyes are for you alone!” “What a satisfactory boy you are! But it was Millicent, wasn’t it?” “Lady, lady! You’re positively psychic! Do you also tell fortunes?” “It’s easy to tell yours! I see a beautiful blonde in your life! Sorry I can’t produce Millie today. She’s not crazy about my Sunday parties; she hates a crowd. I must arrange something small for you two. You must meet that girl who just came in alone--the one in the enchanting black gown. She’s a Miss Abrams, a Jewess, very cultivated--lovely voice.” The rooms were soon crowded. Bruce was still talking to Miss Abrams when he caught sight of Shepherd and Constance Mills, who had drifted in with Fred Thomas. A young man with a flowing tie and melancholy dark eyes claimed Miss Abrams’s attention and Bruce turned to find Shepherd at his elbow. “Just the man I wanted to see!” Shepherd exclaimed. “Let’s find a place where we can talk.” “Not so easy to find!” said Bruce. However, he led the way to Freeman’s den, which had not been invaded, wondering what Franklin Mills’s son could have to say to him. “Do pardon me for cornering you this way,” Shepherd began. “I looked for you several days at the club, but you didn’t show up.” “I’ve been too busy to go up there for luncheon,” Bruce replied. “You could always get track of me at the office.” “Yes, but this was--is--rather confidential for the present.” Shepherd, clasping and unclasping his hands in an attempt to gain composure, now bent forward in his chair and addressed Bruce with a businesslike air. “What I want to talk to you about is that clubhouse for our workmen. You know I mentioned it some time ago?” “Yes; I remember,” Bruce replied, surprised that Shepherd still had the matter on his mind. “It’s troubled me a good deal,” said Shepherd, with the earnestness that always increased his stammering. “I’ve felt that there’s a duty--a real duty and an opportunity there. You know how it is when you get a thing in your head you can’t get rid of--can’t argue yourself out of?” “Those perplexities are annoying. I’d assumed that you’d given the thing up.”