“You know him, then? How—is it long since you last saw his library?” she stammered.
He considered. “Oh, years; not since before the war.”
Her heart rose on the mounting hope. “Oh, not since then?... I suppose he must have a very good librarian?”
“Used to have; the poor chap was killed in the war, I believe. That reminds me that I heard the other day he was looking for some one.”
“Looking for a librarian?” She heard her voice shake. “Not for a private secretary?”
She thought he looked surprised. “I don’t think so; but I really don’t remember. I know he always has a lot of scribes about him; naturally, with so many irons in the fire. Did you happen to hear of any one who was looking for that sort of job? It might be a kindness to let Maclew know.”
She drew her brows together, affecting to consider. “Where did I hear of some one? I can’t remember either. One is always hearing nowadays of people looking for something to do.”
“Yes; but of few who can do anything. And Maclew’s the last man to put up with incompetence. You must come and see him with me. He’s not an easy customer, but he and I are old members of the Grolier Club and he lets me bring a friend to see his library occasionally. I’ve always promised to take Anne, some day when she’s going on to Washington.”
Kate’s heart gave a sharp downward plunge. That “Take Anne” reverberated in her like a knell. What a fool she had been to bring the subject up! If she had not mentioned Horace Maclew’s name Landers might never have thought of his library again; at least not of the promise to take Anne there. Well, it was a lesson to hold her tongue, to let things follow their course without fearing or interfering. Happily Anne, more and more absorbed in her painting, seemed to have no idea of a visit to Washington; she had never mentioned such a plan, beyond once casually saying: “Oh, the Washington magnolias ... some spring I must go there and paint them.”
Some spring ... well, that was pleasantly indefinite. For Chris was not likely to remain long with Horace Maclew. Where had Chris ever remained long? Kate Clephane did not know, now, whether to tremble at that impermanence or be glad of it. She did not know what to think about anything, now that the thought of Chris had suddenly re-introduced itself into the smooth-running wheels of her existence.