He was
about to violate an important rule, but there was no reason why any one
on the outside should hear about it.
"This is most unusual," he said. "If I comply with your request, I must
beg of you not to mention the fact of this interview to any one. Remain
here."
He went away, and the young man waited minute after minute, pacing back
and forth the length of the room, cutting nervous circles around the big
office chairs, wiping his palms with his handkerchief and wondering if
he had come on a fool's errand or whether--
He heard a rustle of soft garments, and turned. There in the doorway
stood a feminine full moon--an elliptical young woman, with half of her
pink and corpulent face showing above a gauzy veil, her two chubby hands
clasped in front of her, the whole attitude one of massive shyness.
"I--I beg pardon," he said, staring at her in wonder.
She tried to speak, but was too much flustered. He saw that she was
smiling behind the veil, and then she came toward him, holding out her
hand. He took the hand, which felt almost squashy, and said:
"I am very glad to meet you."
Then there was a pause.
"Won't you be seated?" he asked.
She sank into one of the leather chairs and looked up at him with a
little simper, and there was another pause.
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