But here she shook her head.
“I couldn’t go home,” she answered. “It might all come out before you arrived, and I could not listen to things that”—she avoided naming her mother—“that will be said about you, Pete. Isn’t there somewhere I can wait while you have your interview?”
There was the outer office of Honaton & Benson. He let her go with him, and turned her over to the care of David, who found her a corner out of the way, and left her only once. That was to say to a friend of his in the cage: “When you go out, cast your eye over Pete’s girl. Somewhat of a peacherino.”
In the meantime Wayne went into Benson’s office. There wasn’t a flicker of alarm on the senior partner’s face on seeing him.
“Hullo, Pete!” he said, “I thought you’d be packing your bags.”
“I’m not packing anything,” said Wayne. “I’ve come to tell you I can’t go to China for you. Mr. Benson.”
“Oh, come, come,” said the other, very paternally, “we can’t let you off like that. This is business, my dear boy. It would cost us money, after having made all our arrangements, if you changed your mind.”
“So I understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just what you think I mean, Mr. Benson.”