THE FIGHTING SHEPHERDESS
waited for what seemed an unconscionable time for the cashier to speak. Panic was in his eyes when he finally raised them from the check. He stood uncertainly for a moment, then turned and walked quickly to the president's desk.
Wentz read it without lifting his head as it lay before him. He continued to stare at it as though he had been stunned, while Kate with her eyes fixed upon his face thrummed lightly on the counter with her finger tips. He had pictured something like this a thousand times, yet now that it actually had come he seemed as little prepared to meet it as if it were a crushing and complete surprise.
He lifted his head as though with an effort.
"Will you step here, please?" His voice sounded thick.
The cashier quickly withdrew while Wentz arose slowly and opened the gate.
As Kate sank slowly into the depths of a leather covered chair, the much-discussed coat, a fitting garment for a princess, with its ample cut and voluminous unstinted hem, swirled gracefully about her feet. Her gloves, her close-fitting hat with its well-adjusted veil drawn over her carefully-dressed hair — everything, to the smallest detail of the subdued elegance of her toilette — suggested not only discriminating taste but unlimited means with which to indulge it.
The Sheep Queen toyed idly with a gold mesh-bag suspended by a chain about her neck, and her face was sphinx-like as she waited for Wentz to speak.
The check fluttered as the banker picked it up at last and held it between his two trembling hands.
"Is it necessary. Miss Prentice, that you have this money at once? "
Kate replied evenly:
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