Lewis got back to the office before Petra had returned from lunching with Dick. He supposed that date must have been made before last night. He left his door open so that he would hear when Petra came in.
He heard her step at last and called out to her. “I’m back, Petra. Please come in here.”
He was surprised that she neither answered nor came, for a long minute. But he felt her there, all that tense, hesitant minute, just beyond the line of his vision. He knew, by some sixth sense, that she was struggling mightily with herself to obey his command. Then she came.
“But what is it? What has happened?” Lewis was up and around the desk the instant he saw her face. “Petra! You frighten me, looking like that!”
“Oh, no, I don’t. You’re like some kind of god, above everything. Above being frightened.”
“You’d better tell me what’s happened, though. You’ve no reason to be angry with me, anyway. What have I done?”
“I’m not angry with you. You haven’t done anything. How is Larsen?”
“Larsen’s dead. But don’t cry. Everything was done that could be. He just had to die, I guess. Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying. Or am I? I thought I wasn’t!” She was wiping the tears from her face with the back of her wrist. “We’ll never write that letter to his mother in Upsala now, will we!”
“It may be better so. I’m afraid she was never much of a mother, you know. What has happened between you and Dick, Petra? Anything you want to tell me? I can see you have had some sort of a shock.”