shopping-district, the narrow streets of which are congested to the point of suffocation at other times. 

 As she swung down the street they turned to gaze after her—these Argentines. The fat senoras turned, and the smartly costumed, sallow senoritas, and the men—all of them. They spoke to her, these last, but she had expected that, and marched on with her free, swinging stride, her chin high, her color very bright. Into the great shop of Pages y Hernandez at last, up to the private offices, her breath coming a little quickly, into the presence of the shiny secretary—shiny teeth, shiny hair, shiny skin, shiny nails. He gazed upon Emma McChesney, the shine gleaming brighter. He took in his slim, brown fingers the card on which Senor Pages had scribbled that day on board ship. The shine became dazzling. He bowed low and backed his way into the office of Senor Pages. 

 A successful man is most impressive when in those surroundings which have been built up by his success. On shipboard, Senor Pages had been a genial, charming, distinguished fellow passenger. In his luxurious business office he still was genial, charming, but his environment seemed to lend him a certain austerity. 

 "Senora McChesney!" 

 ("How awful that sounds!" Emma McChesney told herself.) 

 "We spoke of you but last night. And now you come to win the wager, yes?" He smiled, but shook his head. 

 "Yes," replied Emma McChesney. And tried to smile, too. 

 Senor Pages waved a hand toward the outer office. 

 "She is with you, this business friend who is also so charming?" 

 "Oh, yes," said Emma McChesney, "she's—she's with me." Then, as he made a motion toward the push-button, which would summon the secretary: "No, don't do that! Wait a minute!" From her bag she drew her business card, presented it.  "Read that first." 

 Senor Pages read it. He looked up. Then he read it again. He gazed again at Emma McChesney. Emma McChesney looked straight at him and tried in vain to remember ever having heard of the South American's sense of humor. A moment passed. Her heart sank. Then Senor Pages threw back his fine head and laughed—laughed as the Latin laughs, emphasizing his mirth with many ejaculations and gestures. 

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