"Mr. Baldwin's office?" Rob said, low, to the man whose touch on the lever had caused the elevator to shoot upward, and all Rob's powers to seem to sink downward to her feet. The elevator was packed with passengers, all men, some of whom removed their hats, but most of whom kept them on, and stared at the young girl in mourning, with the wonderful hair, and the big, frightened eyes. "Ninth floor," said the man, and continued his rising career. On the ninth floor Rob, at a forcible reminder from the elevator man, stepped out, dizzy and confused, clutching her unwieldy case, her sole link with the life she had known. It seemed to her, as she stood staring at the door on which the too plain letters, black on the ground-glass, told her she had found John Lester Baldwin, that there was not left of the old, venturesome Roberta Grey even a voice to announce that person. "Don't be a goose, Rob," she said, giving herself a vigorous mental shake. "The idea of insisting on coming, only to cave before the door!" She turned the handle softly and entered. A tall man, with a close-cropped, full beard, and keen yet kind eyes, sat at a desk dictating to his typewriter; he looked up as Roberta entered, and seemed surprised--which was not strange--at the sight of a young girl armed with a suit-case, as if she had come to stay. "Mr. Baldwin?" inquired Rob, faintly, setting down the case, and thus giving herself even more an air of permanency. "My name is Baldwin, yes," said the lawyer, rising politely. "This is----?" "Roberta Grey. My father--I am Sylvester Grey's daughter; do you remember him?" said poor Rob. "Sylvester Grey, my old college mate? Well, rather! My child, I am truly glad to see you, though you make me feel older, finding you so tall, than my own girl does--perhaps because I am used to her," said Mr. Baldwin, coming over to take both of Rob's hands so heartily, that, to her annoyance, she could not keep back the tears. "I have heard nothing of Grey for some time. Come into my private office," he added, seeing the brimming eyes, and noting, with a quick change in his own, the black garments his young visitor wore. Mr. Baldwin led the way to an inner, much smaller room, and put Rob into a chair. "What has happened, my dear?" he asked, gently. "I am afraid you have nothing to tell me that I shall want to hear. You have come to me because your father told you that if you needed counsel, his old chum would gladly give it you? He was right, but I fear you need it because Sylvester can counsel you no longer--is this so?" Rob made a brave struggle to control her voice, helped by the low, even tones, and the little pats on her black sleeve which this good man was giving her--as if, she thought, she were a little child in need of comfort.