“Yes—but—” He hesitated as if uncertain what to say.
“You know men well, don't you, Mr. Ryder?”
“I've met enough to know them pretty well,” he replied.
“Why don't you study women for a change?” she asked. “That would enable you to understand a great many things that I don't think are quite clear to you now.”
Ryder laughed good humouredly. It was decidedly a novel sensation to have someone lecturing him.
“I'm studying you,” he said, “but I don't seem to make much headway. A woman like you whose mind isn't spoiled by the amusement habit has great possibilities—great possibilities. Do you know you're the first woman I ever took into my confidence—I mean at sight?” Again he fixed her with that keen glance which in his business life had taught him how to read men. He continued: “I'm acting on sentiment—something I rarely do, but I can't help it. I like you, upon my soul I do, and I'm going to introduce you to my wife—my son—”
He took the telephone from his desk as if he were going to use it.
“What a commander-in-chief you would have made—how natural it is for you to command,” exclaimed Shirley in a burst of admiration that was half real, half mocking. “I suppose you always tell people what they are to do and how they are to do it. You are a born general. You know I've often thought that Napoleon and Cæsar and Alexander must have been great domestic leaders as well as imperial rulers. I'm sure of it now.”
Ryder listened to her in amazement. He was not quite sure if she were making fun of him or not.
“Well, of all—” he began. Then interrupting himself he said amiably: “Won't you do me the honour to meet my family?”