Days passed, while Ames still mused. And then one morning he took down the receiver and called up the office of the Express.
No, Mr. Hitt was not there––but this was his assistant. And:
“You didn’t want to see Mr. Hitt, did you? You wanted to see me. Well, you may come over.”
Ames nearly dropped the receiver in his astonishment. In the first place, the girl had read his thought; and in the second, he was not accustomed to being told that he might go to see people––they came cringing to him.
“You may come at twelve-fifteen,” continued the clear, firm voice. “And remain a half hour; I’m very busy.”
Ames put down the instrument and looked about, thankful that no one was there to comment on his embarrassment. Then he leaned back in his chair and went slowly over in thought the experiences of that eventful night in his house. Why, this slip of a girl––a half-breed Indian at best––this mere baby––! But he glanced up at the great electric wall clock, and wished it were then twelve-fifteen.
At noon Ames, jauntily swinging his light walking stick, strolled casually into the office of the Express. His air was one of supreme confidence in his own powers. He was superhuman, and he knew it. And the knowledge rendered him 108 unafraid of God, man, or beast. He had met and conquered everything mundane, excepting this young girl. But that thought was now delightful to him. In her he had unearthed a real novelty, a ceaseless interest. She reminded him of a beautiful kitten. She scratched and nettled him; but she was as nothing in his grasp.
The first thing that impressed him on entering the office was the air of prosperity which hung over the place. The environment, he mentally commented, was somewhat unusual for a newspaper plant. Order, quiet, and cleanliness were dominant notes in the prevailing harmony. He first walked back into the pressroom to see if the same conditions prevailed there. Then he retraced his steps, and at length came to a halt before a door bearing the inscription, “Miss Ariza,” on the glass. Turning the knob, he peered curiously in.
The room was small, but light and airy. Its furnishings were new, and its walls had been freshly tinted. A few pictures of good quality hung about them. A handsome rug lay upon the floor. At the desk, bending over a new typewriter, sat Carmen.