Tommy fixed her black eyes upon him. She seemed to be looking him
right through.

"You are staring again, Tommy," Clodd reminded her. "You'll have
trouble breaking yourself of that habit, I can see."

"I was trying to make up my mind about you. Everything depends
upon the business man."

"Glad to hear you say so," replied the self-satisfied Clodd.

"If you are very clever-- Do you mind coming nearer to the lamp? I
can't quite see you over there."

Clodd never could understand why he did it--never could understand
why, from first to last, he always did what Tommy wished him to do;
his only consolation being that other folks seemed just as
helpless. He rose and, crossing the long room, stood at attention
before the large desk, nervousness, to which he was somewhat of a
stranger, taking possession of him.

"You don't LOOK very clever."

Clodd experienced another new sensation--that of falling in his own
estimation.

"And yet one can see that you ARE clever."

The mercury of Clodd's conceit shot upward to a point that in the
case of anyone less physically robust might have been dangerous to