That would be more than he could bear.

As the car reached Front Street he sprang from the dummy and walked rapidly north to Ruyler and Sons.

He locked himself in his private office, dismissing his stenographer with the excuse that he had important business to think out and must not be disturbed.
II But business was forgotten.

He was as nearly in a state of panic as was possible for a man of his inheritance and ordered life.

He belonged to that class of New Yorker that looked with cold disgust upon the women of commerce.