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 in place; all you had to do was to make new openings."

"Steve!" she said to me.

"Don't try it," I asked her.

I could see her face now,—her lips straight and thin, her eyes fixed on me, her forehead damp with those tiny drops of perspiration which you know are cold. She was wearing, not the same suit she'd had on the train; but one as smart, with fur collar and cuffs. She was the same neat little thing who had so completely fooled me; but she wouldn't again.

"Steve!" she repeated my name. "I came here to find Mr. Teverson to warn him. Since he's been warned, I don't care."

"I do!" I retorted and held her. She'd spoken as if I'd let her walk away.

Reed was back at the door of the directors' room with little furry things in his hands. Somebody opened the door, he entered and came out quickly without the guinea pigs. He saw me and stepped up.

"Who's this, Mr. Fanneal?" he asked me, respectfully enough, gazing at Doris.

I didn't reply and he answered himself. "Oh, it's her who was asking for Mr. Teverson downstairs."