Hugh nodded, too, smiling. “A case of mistaken identity, Miss Duane,” he said, and dropped back into his chair.
Millicent noted the proximity to it of Mrs. Lumbard’s, as she gave a little nod toward Adèle and breathed her name.
“Mr. Ogden,” said Miss Frink, without releasing the girl’s hand, “this is my friend Miss Duane; no, don’t go, Millicent. I want you to stay and hear these things you’ve brought. Perhaps we shall want to send them back.”
Leonard Grimshaw had remained in the room, and stood sphinx-like, his eyes first on the new piece of furniture and then on Adèle, who appeared to be chatting with Hugh in the manner of an old friend.
Mrs. Lumbard noted his surprise.
“I don’t believe I told you I worked in France, Leonard,” she said. “Imagine my amazement to find that Mr. Stanwood is one of my old Buddies.”
The secretary received this information with a stiff bow.
“Sit down, Grim. Never mind me,” said Miss Frink. “Mr. Ogden is teaching me how to run this new plaything. Here”—she carried the unwrapped records to Hugh—“choose your opening number.”
Adèle, with her head close to his, pointed out the desired ragtime. Miss Frink took it back to the machine.