The occasional glances that Mrs. Craighill vouchsafed him meant his dismissal, for the time at least. It was plain from her conduct that the ground here lost might not easily be regained; but he was surprised to find in his brooding that he cared so little. Addie’s pique was absurd; but he had kissed women before and they were prone to magnify the gravity of their indiscretions, and to sulk afterward. His thoughts traversed a circular track, but the fire had gone out in his blood. Rousing from his absorption suddenly he found Jean’s eyes bent upon him, wondering, pitiful and sad. He had not heeded what the women were saying to each other, but now Mrs. Craighill asked him where they were and he looked out upon the lights of the city. “Shall we take Miss Morley home first?” he asked. “Dear me, no! She must stop and have dinner with us. Better than that, won’t you stay all night with me, Miss Morley? It’s still snowing and it will be hard getting about town to-night. You see, your knowing Mrs. Blair makes it seem that we _all_ know you.” CHAPTER XIX MR. WINGFIELD CALLS ON MR. WALSH Wayne not appearing at luncheon, Wingfield ate alone and then watched the street traffic from the Club window with listless interest. Across the street rose the grimy façade of Memorial Church, its spires piercing the fuliginous cloud the wind was blowing across the city. A battery of automobiles discharged a party of young people bent upon a wedding rehearsal, and Wingfield sighed softly as the girls fluttered out of sight through the church doors. Shortly afterward he left the Club and walked slowly in the direction of the warehouse of the Wayne-Craighill Company. Wingfield was given to roaming and frequently sauntered through the jobbing district, dodging the clattering trucks, noting the destination of merchandise and dropping in upon friends in their counting rooms to exchange anecdotes and question them as to the state of trade.