And right loyally he had stuck to it. When success came, and with it more and more, till waking one morning he realized that the big jump had been taken, and that henceforth Frenton’s would be one of the powers in the steel world, he did not forget. He paid his men well—almost lavishly: all he asked was that they should work in a similar spirit. And he did more. From the memories of twenty years before he recalled the difference between the two partners for whom he had then been working. One of them had never been seen in the works save as an aloof being from another world, regarding his automatons with an uninterested but searching eye: the other had known every one of his men by name, and had treated them as his own personal friends. And yet his eye was just as searching.... But—what a difference: what an enormous difference! And so John Frenton had learned and profited by the example which stared him in the face: things might perhaps be different to-day if more employers had learned that lesson too. To him every man he employed was a personal friend: again all he asked was that they should regard him likewise.... "Boys," he had said to them on one occasion, when a spirit of unrest had been abroad in the neighbouring works, "if you’ve got any grievance, there’s only one thing I ask. Come and get it off your chests to me: don’t get muttering and grousing about it in corners, if I can remedy it, I will: if I can’t I’ll tell you why. Anyway, a talk will clear the air...." In such manner had John Frenton run his works: in such manner had he become a millionaire and found happiness as well. And then had come the great grief of his life. His wife had died when Marjorie, the only child, was born. Twenty years ago the sweet kindly woman who had cheered him through the burden and heat of the day had died in giving him Marjorie. They had been married eight years, and when she knew that their hopes were going to be realized, it seemed as if nothing more could be wanting to complete their happiness. The stormy times were over: success had come. And now ... a child. When the doctor told John Frenton he went mad. He cursed Fate: he cursed the wretched brat that had come and taken away his woman. For weeks he refused to see it: and then Time, the Great Healer, dulled the agony. Instead of a wife—a daughter: and on the girl he lavished all the great wealth of love of which his rugged nature was capable. He idolized her: and she, because her nature was sweet, remained a charming, unaffected girl. Some day she would be fabulously rich, but the fact did not concern her greatly. In fact she barely thought of it: it would be many long days before her dearly loved dad left her. And so it had been up to a year ago.... Then she’d met the man.