"What excuse shall I make him?"
He put on his hat. The flame of his displeasure had cooled, but he was still inflexible. "None, so far as I am concerned."
A retort died on her lips. He could see that she was puzzled.
"Well, so long," he ventured.
She drew herself up with the swift movement of one parrying a blow.
"So long!" she echoed, and the door closed sharply.
He went down the steps. There was an air of finality in his retreat…
At the office he found a note from Brauer.
Your check has been returned to me… I shall put it through the bank again to-morrow.
He crumpled the sheet of paper and dropped it into the waste basket.
How much would Brauer dare? he wondered.
That night the friend who had first warned him against Kendrick met him on California Street.