Estelle was mildly interested when she first saw Jimmy that morning in her father’s office. He was a new type to her, so obviously different from any man she had ever met. She had no thought of ever meeting him socially; indeed, the idea then would have filled her with indignation. But the sturdy manliness of him attracted her in spite of herself.
She liked Mr. Leffingwell Hope—better, perhaps, than most of the young men of her acquaintance, for the secretary, seeing in her a practical and easy route for his own self-advancement, had for nearly a year been making himself as charming as possible; but she could not help comparing him to Jimmy.
They were as different as two individuals of the same sex could well be, and although Estelle did not know it, Jimmy did not suffer by the comparison.
Estelle was mildly interested in Jimmy from the moment she first saw him. There was no sentiment in her thoughts of him, merely curiosity. She remembered, too, when he had first seen her, the look of awe that had come to his face. And later she had seen plainly his resentment at her presence in the office. Resentment from a young man was something new to Estelle. It did not make her angry; it piqued her, and she could not forget it.
When Jimmy had been with the company about two weeks Estelle came to the office again, and saw him there. Later she learned from George Cooper how he happened to be there, and what he was doing.
She felt a little ashamed of herself at the sudden realization that she was interested in one of her father’s office boys, and decided to forget all about him. Soon after that she went to the seashore with her mother for the summer.
When she returned to the city in the fall the very first time she went to the office she passed Jimmy in the corridor. The change in his appearance was startling. His hair was no longer close-cropped high over his ears. His clothes were those of the city; his whole bearing had changed. Nothing could make Jimmy look in the least foppish. He was still rugged and manly looking, but, Estelle thought, no longer uncouth.
As he passed her he smiled an answer to her nod of recognition. There was no resentment in his smile, but neither was there admiration for her, nor awe. It was just a calm, impersonal smile as though he had already forgotten her existence as soon as he passed.
This piqued Estelle still more—and made her vaguely angry. She sought out George Cooper at his desk.
“I just passed that young man—Mr. Rand, isn’t that his name?—in the corridor,” Estelle began, after they had exchanged a few remarks. “How is he getting on?”