"Some day."
"You aren't still angry at Dora, are you?"
"Why, no. But then she may be still angry at me," I said, indifferently
"Nonsense. Perhaps it is beneath your dignity to call on small people like us? Come, forget that you are a great capitalist and let us all spend an evening together as we used to." Was he ready to suppress his jealousy for the prospect of getting under my financial wing? The answer to this question came to me through a most unexpected channel
The next morning, when I came to my Fifth Avenue office (it was some eighty blocks—about four miles—downtown from "The Curb" section of Fifth Avenue), I found Dora waiting for me. I recognized her the moment I entered the waiting-room on my office floor. Her hair was almost white and she had grown rather fleshy, but her face had not changed. She wore a large, becoming hat and was quite neatly dressed generally
The blood surged to my face. Her presence was a bewildering surprise to me
There were three other people in the room and I had to be on my guard
"How are you?" I said, rushing over to her
She stood up and we shook hands. I took her into my private office through my private corridor.
"Dora! Well, well!" I murmured in a delirium of embarrassment