The business system of "International" was shaking down into a smooth and easy-running efficiency. At the close of this work, Miss Delaware remained wholly unruffled. Turning toward her at last, John Rawn felt that curious old feeling, half made up of chilling trepidation, half of something quite different. There seemed to be something upon his mind, some business still unfinished.
"I was about to say, Miss Delaware," he began at length, "that I am, as you know, a very busy man."
"Yes, sir," she said, evenly and impersonally.
"I have so many things to do, you see, that I don't get much time to attend to little things outside of my business. A man's business is a millstone around his neck, Miss Delaware. We men of—ahem!—of affairs are little better than slaves."
"Yes, Mr. Rawn," she said gently. "I can understand that."
"For instance, I don't even know, as long as I have been here in Chicago, the names of the best firms of decorators, house furnishers, that sort of thing—"
"Doesn't Mrs. Rawn get about very much, sir?"
"Mrs. Rawn unfortunately is not very well. Also she has the habit of delaying in such matters. Then, as I don't myself have the time to take care of everything—why, you see—"
Her eyebrows were a trifle raised by now.
—"So I was just wondering whether I couldn't avail myself of your—your—very possible knowledge of these stores—shops, I mean."