"Two weeks ago."
"Renew it—say, until the end of next March, up to but not including the next annual meeting," directed Armstrong. "That leaves me free. You and Wren can handle anything that Findlater or his crowd may bring up. Send over the papers at once. Findlater won't object? He's rather puffed up over his job of president, these days."
"I'd like to see him object!" said Macgowan, drily.
Thus it had been arranged.
Now, watching visions in the ruddy flames, Armstrong's heart warmed to the thought of his friend. Few men had such a bar of steel at their back! Best of all, he had not bought Macgowan with gold. He had bought him with friendship, with the fairy coin of a mutual dream.
"I must be luckier than most," mused Armstrong. "They say that a man has only one person who'll never go back on him—his wife. But I have two. My wife, and Mac."
"A penny for your thoughts!" said a laughing voice in his ear.
Armstrong started, came to his feet, and smiled into the eyes of Dorothy.
"It'll take something better than a penny," he retorted gayly.
"Not here—not here in the lobby, you shameless creature!" Dorothy drew back hastily, her eyes dancing. "I'll pay, and with interest! What were you thinking about, as you sat there smiling into the fire?"