Eldridge Walcott bowed him out and turned back from the door. But he did not sit down. He would go to Merwin’s. Perhaps she was there--she had said she might come in to town.... But, with his hand on the door, he paused----Suppose he found her--What then?--and the man with her? What then?--Suppose he found her! There was nothing he could do--not yet! He would win her back.... But the man he had to reckon with was not the man sitting with her now, perhaps, in the alcove. The man he had to reckon with was Eldridge Walcott--the little, shrunken, undersized Eldridge Walcott. He saw it--standing with his hand on the door, looking down--and he looked at it a long minute. Then he opened the door. The office boy wheeled about from the window-shade that was stuck halfway up. “I am ready to see anybody that comes, Burton,” he said. “All right,” said the boy. “This old thing gets stuck every other day!” He jerked at it. Eldridge came across and looked at the cord and straightened it and went back to his room. The little incident strengthened him subtly. He had never yet failed in anything he undertook, big or little--he had always succeeded in what he undertook--And suddenly he saw that Eldridge Walcott had never in his life undertaken anything that was not small.... He had done small, safe things. He had straightened window-shades all his life--and he had never failed! He had always had a half-veiled contempt for men who ran risks. Find a safe thing and hold on to it had been his policy. It had brought him through smugly. He had never made a mistake.... The nearest he had ever come to a risk was before he asked Rosalind to marry him. There had been something about her that he could not fathom, something that drew him--and made him afraid--a kind of sweet mystery... that would not let him be safe. Then it had seemed so safe afterward; they had lived together quietly without a break. The young Rosalind who had taught him to be afraid he had forgotten--and now young Rosalind had come back... she had come back to him and with deeper mystery.... This was the real Rosalind, the other was only a shadowy promise.... The young Rosalind would try him for his soul--and he had--no soul! Who was that other man in the alcove with her--the man who had won her? Who was it she had found to understand the mystery--to look up to her and worship her--as he had worshipped Rosalind, the girl; as he had worshipped Rosalind--and let her go! And he had been thinking about divorce! Thinking of the grounds for it and how he should get grounds of divorce--as Gordon Barstow had done. He glanced at the two letters on his desk and at the little, jotted notes of the Barstow case and a smile flitted to them--grounds for divorce from Rosalind! He saw her, in her freedom, moving from him.... His teeth set a little. She should never leave him! She should stay with him. She should stay because he wanted her--and because she wanted him!