Varrick ran his eyes critically over the pieces of card-board, the frown on his face deepening.
"I hope the plans meet your approval, sir," said the young man, very respectfully. "I showed them from day to day, as I progressed, to Miss Jessie Bain, and she seemed very much interested in them."
Those words were fatal to the young man's cause. With an angry gesture, Varrick threw the drawings down upon the table.
"Your plans do not please me at all," he returned. "Stop right where you are. Return to your firm at once and tell them to send me another man, an older man, one with more experience—one who can spend more time at his business and less time in chattering. Your sketches are miserably drawn!"
Frank Moray had risen to his feet, his face white as death.
"Mr. Varrick," he cried hoarsely, "let me beg of you to reconsider your words. Only try me again. Let me make a new set of drawings to submit to you. It would ruin my reputation if you were to send this message to the firm, for they have hitherto placed much confidence in my work."
"You will leave the house at once," he said, "and send a much older man, I repeat, to continue the work."
The poor fellow fairly staggered from the drawing-room. He could not imagine why, in one short hour, he had dropped from heaven to the very depths of Hades, as it were.
Varrick breathed freely when he saw him leave the house and walk slowly down the lilac-bordered path and out through the arched gate-way.
A little later Jessie came flying into the library. Varrick was still seated at the table, poring over his books.