T. X. nodded.
“That is where it must have been,” he said.
The man opened the door and announced the visitor.
T. X. found himself in a large room, very handsomely furnished, but just lacking that sense of cosiness and comfort which is the feature of the Englishman's home.
Kara rose from behind a big writing table, and came with a smile and a quick step to greet the visitor.
“This is a most unexpected pleasure,” he said, and shook hands warmly.
T. X. had not seen him for a year and found very little change in this strange young man. He could not be more confident than he had been, nor bear himself with a more graceful carriage. Whatever social success he had achieved, it had not spoiled him, for his manner was as genial and easy as ever.
“I think that will do, Miss Holland,” he said, turning to the girl who, with notebook in hand, stood by the desk.
“Evidently,” thought T. X., “our Hellenic friend has a pretty taste in secretaries.”
In that one glance he took her all in—from the bronze-brown of her hair to her neat foot.