her all those things she needs, by—­the Skandinavia.  Well, how would you feel?  Wouldn’t you want that—­promotion?  Yes.  I want it.  I want it with all my heart.  The Skandinavia gave me my first start.  They’ve been very, very good to me.  I’ve big room in my heart for them.  Their work’s my work all the time.  I’ve nothing but gratitude for Mr. Peterman.”

“Yes.”  Bull’s smile had passed.  He was thinking of Nancy’s feeling of gratitude towards the Swede—­Peterman.

He turned away, and the grey wintry daylight beyond the window seemed to absorb him.  He was possessed by a mad desire to fling prudence to the winds and then and there point out the wrong he felt she was committing against the country that had bred her in spending her life in the service of these foreigners.  But he knew he must refrain.  It was not the moment.  And somehow he felt she was not the girl to listen patiently to such ethics as he preached when their force was directed against those who claimed her whole loyalty and gratitude.

To Nancy it seemed as though some shadow had arisen between them.  She was a little troubled at the thing she had said.  But somehow she had no desire to withdraw a single word of it.

The car had passed out of the old part of the city.  And Nancy realised it was ascending the great hill where the Chateau Hotel looked out over the old citadel and the wide waters of the busy St. Lawrence river.  In a few minutes the happy companionship of the past few days would be only a memory.

It was only a little way to her apartments now.  Such a very little way.  Yes.  The porter would be there.  He would take her trunks and baggage, and then her door would close behind her, and—­She remembered that moment at which she had awakened to consciousness in this man’s strong arms in the poor little saloon of the storm-beaten Myra.  She remembered the embracing strength of them, and the way she had thrilled under their pressure.  It had been all very wonderful.

“Say!”

Bull Sternford had turned back from the window.  He was smiling again.

“Yes?” The girl was all eager attention.

“I was wondering,” Bull went on.  “Maybe you’ll’ fancy hearing how things are fixed after I see Peterman?”

“I’ll be ever so glad.  There’s the ’phone.  You can get me most any time after business hours.  I don’t go out much.  I—­”

Nancy broke off to glance out of the window.  The automobile had slowed.

“Why, we’re at my place,” she cried.  And the man fancied he detected disappointment in her tone.

The car stopped before the apartment house, and Bull hurled himself at the litter of the girl’s belongings strewn about their feet.  A few moments later they were standing together on the sidewalk surrounded by the baggage.

Bull gazed up at the building.

“You live here?” he asked at random.

Nancy nodded.