"I merely wish to copy it," she said reproachfully. Her eyes were
hazel.

"I ought not to let you take a copy out of this office," he
muttered.

"But you will, won't you?"

"All right. Use that machine over there. Hum--hum!"

For twenty minutes the girl was busy typing before the copy was
finally ready. Then, comparing it and finding her copy accurate, she
returned the original to Mr. Vaux, and rose with that disturbing
grace peculiar to her every movement.

"Where may I telephone you when you're not here?" she inquired
diffidently, resting one slim, white hand on his desk.

"At the Racquet Club. Are you going out?"

"Yes."

"What! You abandon me without my permission?"

She nodded with one of those winsome smiles which incline young men
to revery. Then she turned and walked toward the cloak room.

The D. C. was deeply in love with somebody else, yet he found it
hard to concentrate his mind for a while, and he chewed his