Putnam patriot., 1911-12-15

quite sure l would have tried. But am only girl I came to ask you something regarding that" she lifted her candid eyes 10 his. her soft color rising. Do you know-have you ever met any men who cared and under stood about such factories as this? Men who could take charge of a busi- ness, the manufacturing and racing and selling, like my uncles7 have reason for asking"
 Sure thing" said Bailey. unexpect. edly prompt. I've met one man who knows how to handle this factory bet. ter than I do, and I've been at it twelve years. And there he is-" he turned in his revolving chair and rolled up the shade covering the glass z set door into the next room, my manager. Lestrange.9
 The scene thus suddenly opened to the startled Emily was sufficiently matter-of-faet, yet not lacking in a certain sober animation of it's own. Around a drafting table central in the bare, systematic disorder of the apart ment beyond. three or four blue-shirt- ed men were grouped bending over a set of drawings. which Lestrange was explaining. Explaining with vivid interest in his task that sparkled over his clear face in a changing play of expression almost mesmeric in it's command of attention. The men watched and listened intently; they themselves no common laborers. but the intelligent workmen who were to carry out the ideas here set forth. Wherever Lestrange had been. he was eoatless and the sleeves of his cutting shirt were rolled back, leaving bare the arms whose smooth symmetry re- yealed little of the racing drivers strength; his thick brown hair was rumpled into boyish waves and across his forehead a fine black streak wrote of recent personal encounter with things practical.
 "Oh!" exclaimed Emily faintly And after a moment, "Close the curtain, please"
 None of the group in the next room had noticed the movement of the shade, absorbed in one another any sound being muffied by the throb of adjacent machinery. Bailey obeyed the request, and leaned back in his chair.
 That's Darling Lestrange," he stated with satisfaction. That's his own design for an oiling system he's busy with, and it's a beauty. He's entered for every big race coming this season, starting next week in Geor> gia. and meantime he oversees every department in every building as 1t never was done before. The man for me, he is."
 Emily made an unenthusiastic sign of agreement.
 "T meant very different man from Mir Lestrange, she replied, her dig nity altogether French. T have no doubt that he is all you say. but was thinking of another class. meant-well, I meant a gentleman"
 "Oh, you meant a gentleman" re- piled Bailey, surveying her oddly. T didn't know. you see. No; l don't know any one like that"
 "Thank you. Then I will go. Lit does not matter"
 She did not go, however, but re- mained leaning on the arm Of her chair in troubled reverie, her long lashes lowered Bailey sat as quietly, watching her and waiting.
 The murmur of voices came duly through the closed door, one, lighter and clearer in tone, most frequently rising above the roar pervading the whole building. It was not possible that Emily's glimpse of Lestrange across the glass should identify him absolutely with the man she had seen once in the fiickering lights and shad- ows on the Long Island road; but he was not of a type easily forgotten, and she had been awakened to doubting recognition.
 Now, many little circumstances re- cured to her: a strangeness in Dicks manner when the new manager was alluded to, the fact that her reseuer on that October night had been drlv- ing q racing car and had worn rac- ing costume: and lastly when Bailey smoke of Darling" Lestrange there had flashed across her mind the mech anician's ridiculous answer to the re- quest to aid her chauffeur in changing a tire: "IIl do it for you, Darling And listening to that dominant voice in tbe next room, she slowly grew crimson before vision of herself Tn the middle of a country road. appeal ing to a stranger for suceor, like the heroine of a melodramatic fiction. De-