He stared fixedly at a photograph of his wife in an elaborately chased silver frame, but he did not see her. He saw ruins, as of a conflagration--the smoking débris of a destroyed home; and heaps of ashes--ashes everywhere! And in the rising puffs of smoke he saw faces of men--of young men--of very handsome young men!
Stewardson, the vice-president, walked in--the door was open, as usual. He saw his chief's face and was shocked into a quite human feeling of consternation.
"Great heavens, Mr. Welles, what is the matter?"
"Nothing!" said Ashton Welles. He suddenly felt an overwhelming impulse to hide his face from the sight of his fellow-men. He thought his forehead must show in black letters--_Fool!_ and--and--and ten thousand terrible legends that changed with each beat of his heart, and told what he had been and what had happened; and--yes--what was bound to happen!
"Nothing! Nothing!" he repeated, fiercely.
"Nothing, I tell you!" He was certain all the world knew his disgrace.
"No! No!" he snarled. Call in the entire world and gloat at his discomfiture? He glanced at the vice-president. The impolitic alarm on Steward-son's face exasperated him. "What do you want? Damn it, what do you want?" It was almost a shriek.
"I wanted to consult with you about that Consolidated Cushion Tire bond issue--"
"Yes! I mean--no! I mean--Wait! Ask Witter. I dictated a memorandum to him, I think. Yes, I did!"
He was making desperate efforts to speak calmly; but he stopped, because Stewardson, a dastard of thirty-two, suddenly grew to resemble young Mr. Francis Wolfe! Stewardson saw the gleam in Ashton Welles's eyes and felt that the president must have hated him all his life!
"I'll get it from Witter," he said, and hastily left the room.
Welles stared wide-eyed at the open door for perhaps a full minute; always he saw ruins--smoke and ashes--ashes everywhere! And then he started up and squared his shoulders. He rang for an office-boy and said to him, "Tell Mr. Witter I've gone for the day"--Witter was his private secretary--and left the office.
He could not bear even to think of going home, for he now had no home! Therefore he went to Central Park and walked aimlessly about until his unaccustomed muscles compelled him to sit down. There he sat, thinking! After three hours he had grown sufficiently calm to believe himself when he called himself a fool for being jealous. Having convinced himself of his folly, he clutched eagerly at every opportunity to close his own ears to the whisperings of his own doubts. At length he went to his house, dressed as usual, and went to the Cosmopolitan Club to dine.