It seemed to Sally in the weeks that followed her reunion with GingerKemp that a sort of golden age had set in. On all the frontiers of herlittle kingdom there was peace and prosperity, and she woke each morningin a world so neatly smoothed and ironed out that the most captiouspessimist could hardly have found anything in it to criticize.

　　True, Gerald was still a thousand miles away. Going to Chicago tosuperintend the opening of "The Primrose Way"; for Fillmore had accededto his friend Ike's suggestion in the matter of producing it first inChicago, and he had been called in by a distracted manager to revise thework of a brother dramatist, whose comedy was in difficulties at one ofthe theatres in that city; and this meant he would have to remain on thespot for some time to come. It was disappointing, for Sally had beenlooking forward to having him back in New York in a few days; but sherefused to allow herself to be depressed. Life as a whole was much toosatisfactory for that. Life indeed, in every other respect, seemedperfect. Fillmore was going strong; Ginger was off her conscience; shehad found an apartment; her new hat suited her; and "The Primrose Way"was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared from Fillmore's account,was paying little attention to anything except "The Primrose Way."National problems had ceased to interest the citizens. Local problemsleft them cold. Their minds were riveted to the exclusion of all else onthe problem of how to secure seats. The production of the piece,according to Fillmore, had been the most terrific experience that hadcome to stir Chicago since the great fire.

　　Of all these satisfactory happenings, the most satisfactory, to Sally'sthinking, was the fact that the problem of Ginger's future had beensolved. Ginger had entered the service of the Fillmore NicholasTheatrical Enterprises Ltd. (Managing Director, FillmoreNicholas)--Fillmore would have made the title longer, only that was allthat would go on the brass plate--and was to be found daily in the outeroffice, his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the eveningpapers. What exactly he was, even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he feltlike the man at the wheel, sometimes like a glorified office boy, andnot so very glorified at that. For the most part he had to prevent themob rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi-regal state in theinner office pondering great schemes.

　　But, though there might be an occasional passing uncertainty inGinger's mind as to just what he was supposed to be doing in exchangefor the fifty dollars he drew every Friday, there was nothing uncertainabout his gratitude to Sally for having pulled the strings and enabledhim to do it. He tried to thank her every time they met, and nowadaysthey were meeting frequently; for Ginger was helping her to furnish hernew apartment. In this task, he spared no efforts. He said that it kepthim in condition.