The odd smile in her eyes checked him and gave him a vague sense of uneasiness.
“It is congenial,” said the girl after a pause. “I have my own suite of rooms, my own hours, my own way. I have a natural bent for finance, and business association with Mr. Conover is a real education. The salary is good. My word in all household matters is law. Mr. Conover knows I understand how things should be conducted, and he has grown to rely on me. I am more mistress here than most women in their own homes. Mrs. Conover is ill so much—and Blanche being away——”
“Anice,” he broke in, “I’ve known you since you first went into long dresses. And I know that the reasons you’ve just given are none of them the sort that appeal to a girl like you. To some women they might. But not to you. Why did you come here, and why do you stay? There is some reason you haven’t——”
“’Scuse me, Miss Lanier,” said a voice at the entrance of the alcove, “the Boss sent me to ask you would you come to the drorin’-room. He says the supper-room’s open, an’ he’d like you to soop’rintend things. I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you. Gee, but goin’ through a bunch of cops in a pool-room raid is pie alongside of workin’ a way through this push.”
The speaker was a squat, swarthy little man on whom his ready-made evening clothes sat with the grace and comfort of a set of thumb screws. Clive recognized him with difficulty as the usually self-assured “Billy” Shevlin, Conover’s most trusted political henchman.
“Very well,” replied Anice Lanier, rising to obey the summons. She noted the dumb misery in Billy’s face, and paused to ask:
“Aren’t you having a good time, Mr. Shevlin?”
“A good time? Me? Oh, yes. Sure, I am. I only hope no one’ll mistake me in this open-face suit for a senator or a mattinay idol. That’s all that’s botherin’ me. I’ve been rubbin’ elbows with the Van Alstynes that own half of Pompton Av’no and live in Yoorup, and with Slat Kerrigan’s wife, who used to push coffee and sinkers at Kerry’s beanery. Oh, I’m in sassiety all right. An’ I feel like a pair of yeller shoes at a fun’ral.”
“Never mind!” laughed Anice. “The supper-room’s open, and you’ll enjoy that part of the evening, at any rate.”
“I will, eh? Not me, Miss! The Boss’s passed the word that the boys is to hold back, and kind of make a noise like innercent bystanders till the swell push is all fed. So it’s me for the merry outskirts while they’re gettin’ their money’s wort’.”