“Well, I don’t like his! ... The impertinence!”
They finished their lunch and wandered into Broadway. It was Easter week, and the chimes of Grace Church were ringing out a hymn.
“Let’s not lose touch with each other again,” said Beatrice Alexander at parting. “I’ll ’phone you soon, and next time you’ll have to have luncheon with me. I always go to Wanamaker’s; they have such lovely music up there, and the food’s splendid.”
§ 4
Jeannette had forgotten Mr. Devlin’s existence until one day as she was typing busily at her desk she suddenly recognized his loud, infectious and unmistakable laugh in the adjoining office. Mr. Corey had come in from lunch some ten minutes before, and had brought a man with him. She had heard their feet, their voices, and the clap of the closing door as they entered. Now the laugh startled her. She paused, her fingers suspended above the keys of her typewriter, and listened. It was Mr. Devlin; there was no mistaking him. She twisted her lips in a wry smile. He and Mr. Corey were evidently getting on.
She knew she would be called. When the buzzer summoned her, she picked up her note-book and pencils, straightened her shoulders in characteristic fashion, and went in.
Devlin rose to his feet as she entered, but she did not glance at him. Her attention was Mr. Corey’s.
“How do you do? How’s Miss Sturgis?” Devlin was all good-natured friendliness, showing his big teeth as he grinned at her.
She turned her eyes toward him gravely, gazed at him with calm deliberation, and briefly inclined her head.
“Oh, you two know each other? Friends, hey?” asked Mr. Corey, looking up.