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A minute later Miss Winthrop caught her breath as Don calmly walked to her desk, seated himself in a chair near her, and, producing a circular from his pocket, followed Blake's formula in asking:--
"Can you take a letter for me, Miss Winthrop?"
Almost as automatically as she answered Blake, she replied:--
"Certainly."
She reached for her notebook and pencil.
"_My dear Madame_," he began.
"Any address, Mr. Pendleton?"
"I don't know the exact address," he answered. "Just address it to the little restaurant in the alley."
She looked up.
"Mr. Pendleton!"
"To the little restaurant in the alley," he continued calmly. "Do you use Madame or Mademoiselle to an unmarried lady?" he inquired.
"I suppose this is a strictly business letter, or you would not be dictating it in office hours," she returned.
"I'll make it partly business," he nodded. "Ready?"
"Yes, Mr. Pendleton; but I don't think--"
"Who is introducing the personal element now?" he demanded.
"Ready, Mr. Pendleton."
_My dear Madame_:--
In reply to your advice that I acquire certain information relative to the securities which our firm is offering for sale, I beg to report that, after several talks with our Mr. Powers, I am prepared to give you any information you may desire.
"Try me on one of them?" he suggested, interrupting himself.
She raised her eyes and glanced anxiously around the office. Then she replied, as if reading from her notebook:--
"You forget, Mr. Pendleton, that I am taking a letter from you."
"Try me on one of the bonds," he insisted.
"You mustn't act like this. Really, you mustn't."
"Then I'll dictate some more. Ready?"
"Yes, Mr. Pendleton."
Our Miss Winthrop has just informed me that you have lost your interest in the whole matter.
"I didn't say that, Mr. Pendleton," she interrupted.
"What did you say, then?"
"I said that here in the office--"
"Oh, I see. Then scratch that sentence out."
She scratched it out.
"Have it read this way":--
Our Miss Winthrop informs me--
"Why need you bring me in at all?" she asked.
"Please don't interrupt."
--informs me that, owing to the lack of privacy in the office, you cannot discuss these matters here with me. Therefore I suggest that, as long as the luncheon hour is no longer convenient (for the same reasons), an arrangement be made whereby I may have the pleasure of dining with you some evening.
Miss Winthrop's brows came together.
"That is absolutely impossible!" she exclaimed.
If the idea does not appeal to you as a pleasure,--
he went on in the most impersonal of tones,--
perhaps you would be willing to consider it as a favor. Our Miss Winthrop informs me that the suggestion is impossible, but personally I don't see how anything could be more easily arranged. I would prefer Sat.u.r.day evening, as on that date I am quite sure of being sufficiently well provided with ducats--
"You'd better save them," she interrupted.
--to insure a proper settlement with the waiter,--
he concluded his sentence.
Please let me know, then, where I may meet you on Sat.u.r.day evening next.
"I told you that was quite impossible, Mr. Pendleton," she reminded him.
"You haven't told me why."
"There are a hundred reasons, and they can't be discussed here."
"That's it," he exclaimed triumphantly. "That's the whole trouble! We can't discuss things here; so let's have our little dinner, and then there'll be all the chance in the world for you to tell me why you shouldn't come."
"You're absurd," she declared, with an involuntary smile.
