"It made a lot of difference to me," said Ford, refusing to be brushed aside. "How did you expect I was ever going to be able to find you again, without even your name as a clue?"
She glanced up at him with unfeigned interest. The men of her world were not altogether unappreciative; neither were they so primitively straightforward as this young industry captain out of the West.
"It is not impossible that I never thought of your finding me again," she said, and only the tone saved it from being a small slap in the face.
Ford took the rebuff as a part of the day's work.
"Perhaps you didn't," he admitted. "But I mean to go on hoping that you did."
"The idea!" she scoffed; but this time she blunted the keen edge of the rebuke by adding: "I thought, perhaps, we might meet again, sometime. You see, we are all stock-holders in the Pacific Southwestern; my brother, Aunt Hetty and I; and Uncle Sidney had shown us a letter—it was from Mr. North, I think—saying that you were likely to come to New York with some kind of a plan of reorganization. So when you gave me your card, I knew at once who you were."
Ford made an immediate mental note of the bit of information implicating Mr. North, but did not allow himself to be diverted by the business affair.
"Yes, I know; but that didn't help me a little bit," he protested, wishing that the distance to the hotel were twice as far.
"That was just because it happened so; you ran away before my brother had a chance to offer you any hospitality," she explained. Then, before he could say any more straightforward things: "Tell me, Mr. Ford; are you really going to find something to interest brother?—something that will keep him actually and enthusiastically busy for more than a few days at a time?"
Ford laughed. "I fancy he hasn't been bored for the lack of work since I left New York, has he?"