“Did he hear?” she whispered hysterically. Then not waiting for a reply she pounced upon an object in the desk. “Is that a mirror?”
Noah shamefacedly produced it.
“Hold it for me,” she commanded. “Not so far off. Like that!”
Standing there behind the desk holding his little mirror for her to powder her nose seemed to Noah the apotheosis of romance.
“Too much?” she asked, tilting her face for inspection. “And is my hat right? I want to look my best, because you know I may meet Donald Morley on the steps.”
She was evidently not disappointed, for Noah, standing at the window waiting to catch the last flutter of her feather as she passed up the street, had to wait five agonizing minutes, at the end of which Don spoke to him from the door.
“Hello, Wick. Is Mr. Gooch here?”
“He was a minute ago.”
“Is he coming back?”
“I don't know, I'm sure.”