Stewart returned to his work with some unction. But the idea which to his vague apprehension had seemed so promising only led him from one difficulty into a worse, and at the end of a trying afternoon he had nothing more hopeful to gaze upon than his original plans.
Two days later Bennett came over to him as he sat at luncheon in the club.
"I believe I'm indebted to you for a client, Lee," Bennett said. "Mr. Andrew Delafield; he'd gone to you, he told me, but you were too busy or something—with the hospital competition, I presume."
"No, not too busy," Stewart answered. "I told him that warehouses were not in my line and I believed they were in yours; that was all."
"It's true," laughed Bennett; "I never turned up my nose at any kind of a job yet, and never expect to. As it happens, this thing fits in very nicely; we've just about finished our competition drawings and we're quite ready for the next big job. So I'm much obliged; do the same thing for you some time."
Stewart was irritated to find that Bennett could take a thrust with so good a grace. He more than half wished now that he had kept the warehouse for himself, especially as the glimmer of light which had temporarily illumined the hospital plans had faded. It would at least have been something to do in which he could mark progress; and he was feeling the need of this desperately.
The twenty-third of September came and passed; one week was left him in which to meet the practical objections to his plans.
