Without a word Alicia followed him to the lift and they ascended one flight. Colegrove’s sitting-room was a small replica of the drawing-room below. "It is a good many years since I entertained a lady in a place like this, but I hope you will excuse it. I don’t want your husband’s committee to know that I am within a hundred miles of this town. Before we begin talking business, tell me how you have been. You are looking blooming, as well as I can see under that veil." "I remembered that you told me," was Alicia’s reply, "that you must have copies of the correspondence. I never have any trouble in getting copies, but it always makes me ashamed." Colegrove paid no attention to the latter sentence, but stored up the first, and thought it a lucky admission on Alicia’s part. She opened the costly little bag which she carried in her hand, and took out half-a-dozen letters, which Colegrove read rapidly, and with an air of satisfaction. Then, putting them in his breast pocket, he said pleasantly: "By the way, that A.F.&O. stock has gone sky-high, and will soon go down in a hole in the ground. I sold a thousand shares of that investment of yours which stands in my name, and here is the money for it. You understand why I am obliged to give it to you in money instead of a cheque?" He handed out a roll of bills, naming a considerable sum, and Alicia, without counting it, put it into her bag. Colegrove, having transacted the business part of the interview, would have liked to have had half-an-hour’s conversation with Mrs. March, whose charming voice and speaking eyes had a steady and increasing fascination for him, but Alicia would not stay. "We can talk," she said, "when you come to Washington openly. My husband, I think, likes you very much, and he says he is warring on the corporation, not on individuals." "Will you ask me to dinner, Mrs. March?" "With pleasure," replied Alicia, smiling faintly. "I am glad it gives you a little pleasure; it gives me a great deal," replied Colegrove. "When a man has led the life that I have led, and has to do with large affairs, most women appear to him like children whose range of ideas is soon exhausted. Not so with you, however." "I never was reckoned a clever woman," responded Alicia. "Oh, Lord! I hate cleverness in both men and women. It assumes to be everything and takes the place of nothing. But you have lived from the very hour you made that unlucky first marriage. No one admires Senator March more than I do, but he ought to have married a purely conventional person, like Miss Chantrey, for example, whom I have met at your house. There must be a good many things you can’t talk about to your husband."