She put in a fresh sheet of paper—and now glanced at him again for one second.
"Into dreamland."
"Yes, that is a ridiculously pleasant place devoid of draughts and of chilling surprises. It would be very impertinent, I suppose, if I asked you where is your dreamland?"
"Perhaps not impertinent—out of place. You are dictating a letter to the Lord Mayor of London at the moment."
"To be sure I am—you made me forget it—he is an infernal bore, the Lord Mayor of London, compelling me to branch off from this very interesting conversation to his confounded letter!—I beg your pardon!"
Katherine read aloud the last coherent sentence he had given her, and she permitted one of her faint sphinxlike smiles to play about her mouth, while her eyes sought the typing.
Gerard Strobridge moved a little nearer—he felt a sudden strong thrill.
"I shall not give you another word to type until you tell me about your dreamland—Is it in sea or sky or air?"
"It is half-past three o'clock and you are only to stay until five—had you not better attend to your work first, sir?"