"We needn't bring Mrs. Dennison into it," he said, smiling. "It's a matter of business, and if Dennison has made up his mind——"
He ended with a shrug, and took up his hat.
"I—I think so, Ruston," stumbled Harry.
"Where is Maggie?" asked Mrs. Cormack curiously. "They told me she would be in soon."
"I don't know," said Harry. "She went out driving. She's sometimes late in coming back."
Ruston was shaking hands with Mrs. Cormack, and, when he walked out, Harry followed him. The two men went downstairs in silence. Harry opened the front door. Willie Ruston held out his hand, but Harry did not this time take it. Holding the door-knob, he looked at his visitor with a puzzled entreaty in his eyes, and his visitor suddenly felt sorry for him.
"I hope Mrs. Dennison is well?" said Ruston, after a pause.
"No," answered Harry, with rough abruptness. "She's not well. I knew how it would be; I told you. You would go."
"My dear fellow——"
"You would talk to her about your miserable Company—our Company, if you like. I knew it would do her harm. I told you so."