CHAPTER XIII DEAR SIR-- Don never had an opportunity to test his knowledge of the bonds about which he had laboriously acquired so much information, because within the next week all these offerings had been sold and their places taken by new securities. These contained an entirely different set of figures. It seemed to him that all his previous work was wasted. He must begin over again; and, as far as he could see, he must keep on beginning over again indefinitely. He felt that Farnsworth had deprived him of an opportunity, and this had the effect of considerably dampening his enthusiasm. Then, too, during December and most of January Frances kept him very busy. He had never seen her so gay or so beautiful. She was like a fairy sprite ever dancing to dizzy music. He followed her in a sort of daze from dinner to dance, until the strains of music whirled through his head all day long. The more he saw of her, the more he desired of her. In Christmas week, when every evening was filled and he was with her from eight in the evening until two and three and four the next morning, he would glance at his watch every ten minutes during the following day. The hours from nine to five were interminable. He wandered restlessly about the office, picking up paper and circular, only to drop them after an uneasy minute or two. The entire office staff faded into the background. Even Miss Winthrop receded until she became scarcely more than a figure behind a typewriter. When he was sent out by Farnsworth, he made as long an errand of it as he could. He was gone an hour, or an hour and a half, on commissions that should not have taken half the time. It was the week of the Moore cotillion that Miss Winthrop observed the change in him. She took it to be a natural enough reaction and had half-expected it. There were very few men, her observation had told her, who could sustain themselves at their best for any length of time. This was an irritating fact, but being a fact had to be accepted. As a man he was entitled to an off day or two--possibly to an off week. But when the second and third and fourth week passed without any notable improvement in him, Miss Winthrop became worried. "You ought to put him wise," she ventured to suggest to Powers. "I?" Powers had inquired. "Well, he seems like a pretty decent sort," she answered indifferently. "So he is," admitted Powers, with an indifference that was decidedly more genuine than her own. It was quite clear that Powers's interest went no further. He had a wife and two children and his own ambitions.