A gloomy, angry frown, like a black shadow, passed across Norman’s face and disappeared.  “You’d marry her—­on those terms?” he sneered.

“Of course I hope for better terms——­”

Norman sprang up, strode to the window and turned his back.

“But I’m prepared for the worst.  The fact is, she treats me as if she didn’t care a rap for the honor of my showing her attention.”

“A trick, Billy.  An old trick.”

“Maybe so.  But—­I really believe she doesn’t realize.  She’s queer—­has been queerly brought up.  Yes, I think she doesn’t appreciate.  Then, too, she’s young and light—­almost childish in some ways. . . .  I don’t blame you for being disgusted with me, Fred. But—­damn it, what’s a man to do?”

“Cure himself!” exploded Norman, wheeling violently on his friend.  “You must act like a man.  Billy, such a marriage is ruin for you.  How can we take you into partnership next year?  When you marry, you must marry in the class you’re moving toward, not in any of those you’re leaving behind.”

“Do you suppose I haven’t thought of all that?” rejoined Tetlow bitterly.  “But I can’t help myself.  It’s useless for me to say I’ll try.  I shan’t try.”

“Don’t you want to get over this?” demanded Norman fiercely.

“Of course—­No—­I don’t.  Fred, you’d think better of me if you knew her.  You’ve never especially noticed her.  She’s beautiful.”

Norman dropped to his chair again.

“Really—­beautiful,” protested Tetlow, assuming that the gesture was one of disgusted denial.  “Take a good look at her, Norman, before you condemn her.  I never was so astonished as when I discovered how good-looking she is.  I don’t quite know how it is, but I suppose nobody ever happened to see how—­how lovely she is until I just chanced to see it.”  At a rudely abrupt gesture from Norman he hurried on, eagerly apologetic, “And if you talk with her—­She’s very reserved.  But she’s the lady through and through—­and has a good mind. . . .  At least, I think she has.  I’ll admit a man in love is a poor judge of a woman’s mind.  But, anyhow, I know she’s lovely to look at.  You’ll see it yourself, now that I’ve called your attention to it.  You can’t fail to see it.”

Norman threw himself back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Why do you want to marry her?” he inquired, in a tone his sensitive ear approved as judicial.

“How can I tell?” replied the head clerk irritably.  “Does a man ever know?”

“Always—­when he’s sensibly in love.”

“But when he’s just in love?  That’s what ails me,” retorted Tetlow, with a sheepish look and laugh.

“Billy, you’ve got to get over this.  I can’t let you make a fool of yourself.”

Tetlow’s fat, smooth, pasty face of the overfed, underexercised professional man became a curious exhibit of alarm and obstinacy.

“You’ve got to promise me you’ll keep away from her—­except at the office—­for say, a week.  Then—­we’ll see.”