He did as he pleased. And, on the whole, he pleased to do far less
inconsiderately than his desires, his abilities, and his opportunities
tempted. Have not men been acclaimed good for less?

In the offices, where he was canvased daily by partners, clerks,
everyone down to the cleaners whose labors he so often delayed, opinion
varied from day to day. They worshiped him; they hated him. They loved
him; they feared him. They regarded him as more than human, as less than
human; but never as just human--though always as endowed with fine human
virtues and even finer human weaknesses. Miss Tillotson, next to the
head clerk in rank and pay--and a pretty and pushing young
person--dreamed of getting acquainted with him--really well acquainted.
It was a vain dream. For him, between up town and down town a great gulf
was fixed. Also, he had no interest in or ammunition for sparrows.

It was in December that Miss Hallowell--Miss Dorothea Hallowell--got her
temporary place at ten dollars a week--that obscure event, somewhat like
a field mouse taking quarters in a horizon-bounded grain field. It was
not until mid-February that she, the palest of personalities, came into
direct contact with Norman, about the most refulgent. This is how it
happened.

Late in that February afternoon, an hour or more after the last of the
office force should have left, Norman threw open the door of his private
office and glanced round at the rows on rows of desks. The lights in the
big room were on, apparently only because he was still within. With an
exclamation of disappointment he turned to re-enter his office. He heard
the click of typewriter keys. Again he looked round, but could see no
one.