“Well?”
“Why—say—this—this looks as if you were fired!”
“Does, doesn't it?” She smiled.
“Then our little agreement goes?” The two men were on their feet, eager, alert. “That means you'll take Fromkin's offer?”
“It means that our little agreement is off. I'm sorry to disappoint you. I want to thank you both for your trouble. I must have been crazy to listen to you for a minute. I wouldn't have if I'd been myself.”
“But that telegram—”
“It's signed, 'T. A. Buck.' I'll take a chance.”
The two men stared after her, disappointment and bewilderment chasing across each face.
“Well, I thought I knew women, but—” began Ed Meyers fluently.
Passing the desk, Mrs. McChesney heard her name. She glanced toward the clerk. He was just hanging up the telephone-receiver.