"Oh, I don't blame them," said Norman. "They need the money, and the
only way they've got of making it is out of sentiment. And you must
admit they give a bully good quality, if the payment is all right."
Tetlow shrugged his shoulders. "I'm glad I don't need them," said he.
"It gives me the creeps to see them gliding about with their beautiful
dresses and their sweet, soft faces."
He and Norman lunched together in an out-of-the way restaurant. After a
busy and a happy afternoon, Norman returned early to the hotel. He had
cashed his check. He was in funds. He would give her another and more
thrilling taste of the joy that was to be hers through him--and soon she
would be giving even as she got--for he would teach her not to fear
love, not to shrink from it, but to rejoice in it and to let it permeate
and complete all her charms.
He ascended to the apartment and knocked. There was no answer. He
searched in vain for a chambermaid to let him in. He descended to the
office. "Oh, Mr. Norman," said one of the clerks. "Your wife left this
note for you."