Norman gave him a penetrating glance.  “Is love—­such love as mine—­and yours—­” There Tetlow flushed guiltily—­“is it ever noble?—­whatever that means.  No, it’s human—­human.  But I’m not trying to harm her.  I give you my word. . . .  Will you help me—­and her?”

Tetlow hesitated.  His heavy cheeks quivered.  “I don’t trust you,” he cried violently—­the violence of a man fighting against an enemy within.  “Don’t ever speak to me again.”  And he rushed away through the rain, knocking umbrellas this way and that.

About noon two days later, as Norman was making one of his excursions past the Equitable elevators, he saw Bob Culver at the news stand.  It so happened that as he recognized Culver, Culver cast in the direction of the elevators the sort of look that betrays a man waiting for a woman.  Unseen by Culver, Norman stopped short.  Into his face blazed the fury of suspicion, jealousy, and hate—­one of the cyclones of passion that swept him from time to time and revealed to his own appalled self the full intensity of his feeling, the full power of the demon that possessed him.  Culver was of those glossy, black men who are beloved of women.  He was much handsomer than Norman, who, indeed, was not handsome at all, but was regarded as handsome because he had the air of great distinction.  Many times these two young men had been pitted against each other in legal battles.  Every time Norman had won.  Twice they had contended for the favor of the same lady.  Each had scored once.  But as Culver’s victory was merely for a very light and empty-headed lady of the stage while he had won Josephine Burroughs away from Culver, the balance was certainly not against him.

As Norman slipped back and into the cross corridor to avoid meeting Culver, Dorothy Hallowell hurried from a just descended elevator and, with a quick, frightened glance toward Culver, in profile, almost ran toward Norman.  It was evident that she had only one thought—­to escape being seen by her new employer.  When she realized that some one was standing before her and moved to one side to pass, she looked up.  “Oh!” she gasped, starting back.  And then she stood there white and shaking.

“Is that beast Culver hounding you?” demanded Norman.

She recovered herself quickly.  With flashing eyes, she cried:  “How dare you!  How dare you!”

Norman, possessed by his rage against Culver, paid no attention.  “If he don’t let you alone,” he said, “I’ll thrash him into a hospital for six months.  You must leave his office at once.  You’ll not go back there.”

“You must be crazy,” replied she, calm again.  “I’ve no complaint to make of the way I’m being treated.  I never was so well off in my life.  And Mr. Culver is very kind and polite.”

“You know what that means,” said Norman harshly.

“Everyone isn’t like you,” retorted she.