“Some time,” she replied lightly. “I made a purchase by ’phone this morning and I want to look at it before it is sent up. Have you seen Mr. Ogden?”
“Yes, I’ve just taken him to Mr. Stanwood’s room.”
“I suppose the boy was delighted to see him.”
“I don’t know. He swore like a trooper,” replied the secretary with a righteous, long-suffering lift of his crest.
The lady of the old school looked pensive, and smiled.
“Can the boy swear? What a naughty boy!” she said. “I imagine he looks handsomer than ever when he is excited.”
Grimshaw’s full lips tightened as he escorted her out to the carriage.
“Breaking. Breaking fast,” he thought, and he made up his mind to be on the lookout for the bill for that dressing-gown. As a matter of fact, he never did see it. In some way Miss Frink managed to extract that from the usual routine.
“What is she up to now?” he muttered, watching the spirited bays jingling up the street at the pace they took when their owner was in a hurry. An awful certainty possessed him that the occupant of the White Room—the resplendent young Rajah who looked handsome when he swore—had something to do with their celerity.