Roger had mistrusted. His plea for forgiveness proved it. Something deep in Anne hardened, but she patted his cheek and said cheerfully:
"Why don't you look him up to-night? It's early yet."
"Do you want to get rid of me?" Roger teased with a look in his eyes that had not been there for a long time.
"No—of course I don't," Anne said, and he kissed her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next day Roger went to Tom O'Connell. Through a cloud of tobacco smoke, Roger saw him at the end of the dusty loft, sprawled on the edge of a table behind a low railing and listening to two short, heavy men talking at once. Some maps and statistical charts hung from the rough, wooden walls; a magazine-stand stood close to the door, piled with papers and pamphlets, red-bound, or with glaring red splotches in their cover designs. Close to the bench on which Roger waited some one was pounding a typewriter behind a partition. The east end of the loft was enclosed as a separate office and from this enclosure came the voices of men and women talking loudly. The whole room vibrated to the feel of a rushing force, of many violent plans being made and driven through to execution in an incredibly short time. No restraint here, no polish, no modulation. Right or wrong, these people believed in themselves. Society was a wall through which, by brute force, they would drive the spike of their ideal. Roger's excitement grew. He felt like the unfortunate son of the leading citizen in a small town, watching a magnificent back-alley fight by "de gang."
Suddenly the typewriter beside him stopped, and Katya Orloff peered over the top of the partition. If she was surprised she did not show it.
"Come in. Tom will be through in a minute." She disappeared and Roger went round to the gate she opened. Katya's desk was piled with papers, carbons, and cigarette ashes. Teetering on one edge, the dregs of a cup of black coffee, into which Katya had dropped the crust of a ham sandwich, threatened to destroy a pile of clean copy, but didn't.
"Sit down." Katya motioned to an upturned apple box and Roger sat down. Then, for the first time, Katya smiled. A spark lit in the little brown eyes, but the heavy mouth remained unmoved. It was as if her power to smile was slowly dying. The eyes alone refused to petrify in the devastating seriousness of Katya's purpose. Roger smiled back.
"I thought you would come. I expected you sooner."