As it was she snatched at the relief his smile inspired.

The man laughingly shook his head as the girl approached.

“Nancy, my dear, I hope Mr. Bull Sternford gave you as good a dinner as I would have given you, and—­as good a time generally.  You look well rested, anyway.”

There was a sting in the words that all the man’s care could not quite shut out.  But the tone was of intended good-nature.  In a moment Nancy was explaining.

“Oh, I know you must think me terribly mean,” she cried impulsively.  “You must think I was just lying to you when you asked me to dine yesterday.  But it wasn’t so.  It surely wasn’t.  May I tell you about it?”

The man came back to his desk, and indicated the empty chair beside it.

“Sure, if you feel that way,” he said, dropping into his seat while Nancy took hers.  “But I’m not angry.  Truth I’m not.”  For a moment he gazed smilingly into the girl’s troubled eyes.  “Here,” he went on.  “I’ll tell you just how I think.  Maybe you won’t figger it flattering, but it’s just plain truth.  Now I’m a married man and you’re a young girl.  Well, the Chateau isn’t the sort of place for you and me to be seen together in.  I didn’t think of it when I asked you.  I just wanted to hand you a good time for the good work you’ve done.  Sort of prize for a good girl, eh?  I hadn’t another thought about it.  And when you refused me, and I thought it over, I was kind of glad—­I might have compromised you, and I certainly would have compromised myself.  You get that?  You understand me?  Of course you do.  That’s what I like.  You’re so darn sensible.  Now you tell me—­if you fancy to?”

Nancy sighed her relief.  Her last cloud had passed away.

“Oh, yes,” she began at once.  “I do want to tell you.  You see I think it’s all-important.”

“Yes.”

The man’s smile was unchanged.  But there was a dryness in his monosyllable that only Nancy could have missed.

“Mr. Sternford ’phoned me after his interview with you.”

“He had your ’phone number?”

“Surely, I gave him that before he left me after driving up from the docks.”

“I see.  Of course.  You drove up together after landing.  I forgot.”

Nancy laughed.

“I don’t think I told you,” she said.  “But it doesn’t matter, anyway.  Yes, he drove me up.  And the whole of this affair was so interesting I just had to hear the result of the interview with you.  So I told him my ’phone number.  Well, right after he’d seen you he rang me up.  He told me he couldn’t speak over the ’phone the things that passed, and asked me to dine.  I just had to fall for that.  You see, this thing meant so much to me.  It was the first big thing I’d handled, and—­and I was so crazy to make good for you.  So I promised.  And it wasn’t till after it was all fixed I realised the mean way I’d acted.  You’ll forgive me, won’t you, Mr. Peterman?  I just hadn’t a notion to be mean, and I was all tired to death.  But I had to hear about the things you’d fixed.”