Stillman knew that while Lily Condor was not precisely jealous of the younger woman, she was distinctly envious—­with the impersonal but acrid envy of middle age for youth.  The episode of the orchids still rankled.  He had to admit that in this instance his course had been tactless, but he had ignored Mrs. Condor as a challenge to the presumption which he had already begun to sense.  She, while seeming definitely to evade the real issue, had answered the challenge and he had paid for his temerity a hundredfold.  She had reminded him again and again in deft but none the less positive terms that she was keeping a finger on the mainspring of any advantage that came her way.  Sometimes Stillman wondered whether she would really be cattish enough to betray his confidence and bring Claire Robson crashing down under the weight of the questionable position into which his indiscretion had forced her.  Would she really have the face to publish abroad the pregnant fact that Ned Stillman was providing what she had been pleased to designate as a meal-ticket for a young woman in difficulty?  For himself he cared little, except that he always shrank instinctively from appearing ridiculous.

He had been thinking a great deal of late as to the best course to pursue in ridding himself and Claire of this menacing incubus.  He had a feeling that Claire, having exhausted the novelties of her position as accompanist to Lily Condor, was beginning to find the affair irksome.

The business venture had progressed in quite another direction from his original intention.  Suddenly, without knowing how it had all come about, he found his plans clearly defined.  The government needed him.  Somehow, it had never occurred to him that he could be of service at a point so far from the center of war activities.  He had been a good deal of an idler, it was true, but the seeds of achievement were merely lying in fallow soil.

At first, he had been stung into action more by Claire’s accusing attitude than anything else.  She used to come every other afternoon at the appointed time and almost challenge him by her reproachful silence to do something, if only to provide her with an illusion.  It was as if she said: 

“See, I have given in to you.  I know that you are doing this for me, and I am deeply grateful.  But won’t you please make the situation a little less transparent?  Won’t you at least justify me in the eyes of those who are watching our little performance?...”

It had all ended by his offering his services to the Food Administration.  He knew something of his father’s business.  He felt that he had a fair knowledge of beans, and he could learn more.  He merely asked a trial, and it surprised him to find what a sense of humility suddenly possessed him.  He was really overjoyed when a place was assured him.  But he had to admit that his acceptance was not accorded any great enthusiasm.  The newspapers mentioned it in a scant paragraph that was not even given a prominent place.  He had received greater recognition for a brilliant play upon the golf-links!  Well, in such stirring times he was nobody.  He did not complain, even to himself, but the knowledge subconsciously rankled.