is ruined coat.

There were steps and voices on the stairs. She of the big spectacles
appeared in the doorway.

“I beg your pardon,” observed Peter with breathless formality, “but have
you got a pin?”

She stared at him; then at Zanin, finally at the Worm.

“There's a gentleman up-stairs,” she said mechanically in a lifeless
voice.

The Worm went up. A businesslike young man was standing in the upper
hall, looking about him with mild curiosity.

“Whom did you wish to see?” asked the Worm.

“Mr. Zanin and Mr. Mann.”

“Oh--you must be the attorney for the Interstellar people.”

“I am.”

“Come this way,” said the Worm with calm, and ushered him down the
stairs and into the dining-room.

Sue was sitting alone on a bench in Washington Square. She saw Henry
Bates approaching and rose hurriedly to meet him.

“It's all over,” said he cheerfully.

“But, Henry--tell me--what on earth!”

“No particular damage beyond what court plaster and Peter's tailor can
fix up.”

“But--but---how is it over so soon? What are they doing?”

“When I left, Zanin was entertaining that attorney chap.”

“And Peter?”

“Down on his hands and knees trying to find the contract.”

“Is he--will he--”

“Sign it? Yes. They want you to sign, too. But I told them you'd do it
in the morning. You're to have a ten per cent, interest--Zanin and Peter
each fifteen.”

“But I don't want--”

“May as well take it. You've earned it.... Look here, Sue, has it
occurred to you that we--you and I--haven't had a morsel to eat yet?”

She started in genuine surprise; looked up at him with an intent
expression that he could not, at the moment, fathom; then suddenly threw
back her head.

“Henry',” she said, a ring in her voice, “I--I'm not engaged any
more--not to anybody! I want--” she gave a slow little laugh--“some
oysters.”

“At Jim's!” he cried.

He slipped his arm through hers. Free-hearted as the birds that
slumbered in the trees overhead they strolled over to the congenial
o