“Ah, here it is! Knew I had that address on me somewheres.” He handed the scrap of paper across the table. “That’s his name and number. Seems to 289 me you may have a good thing there, Judson, if you know how to work it.”
In another early morning scene the ermine was cleaning her nest; and you know how fastidious she is supposed to be as to personal spotlessness. The ermine in question did not belie her reputation, as you would have seen by a glance at the three or four rooms which made up what she called her “flat.”
Nothing was ever whiter than the wood-work of the “flat” and its furnishings. Nothing was ever whiter than the little lady’s dress. The hair was white, and even the complexion, the one like silver, the other like the camelia. Having breakfasted from white dishes placed on a white napkin, she was busy with a carpet-sweeper sweeping up possible crumbs. In an interval of the carpet-sweeper’s buzz she heard the telephone.
“Hello!” The male voice was commanding.
“Yes?” The response was sweetly precise.
“Is this Red Point 3284-W?”
“It is.”
“Can I speak to Miss Henrietta Towell?”
“This is Miss Henrietta Towell.”