The girl took stock of her and, apparently reassured, closed the door behind her. “No,” laughed Joan. “At least, I don’t think so.”!

CHAPTER XIII She hurried onward with bent head, trying to escape them. She felt so small, so helpless. Almost she cried out in her despair.

“Quite likely,” thought Flossie; “just the type that sort of man does marry. A barmaid, I expect.” It was Carleton of the Daily Dispatch group who had first divined her possibilities. With a swift glance on his way through, he had picked her out from a line of depressed-looking men and women ranged against the wall of the dark entrance passage; and with a snap of his fingers had beckoned to her to follow him. Striding in front of her up to his room, he had pointed to a chair and had left her sitting there for three-quarters of an hour, while he held discussion with a stream of subordinates, managers and editors of departments, who entered and departed one after another, evidently in pre-arranged order. All of them spoke rapidly, without ever digressing by a single word from the point, giving her the impression of their speeches having been rehearsed beforehand. “And then did your feelings towards him change suddenly?” questioned Miss Tolley.