"He wouldn't—ah—know me. He wouldn't know my name."
"What's your business with him? You an insurance agent?"
"Oh, no, nothing like that!" denied Anthony hurriedly. "Oh, no. It's a—it's a personal matter." He wondered if he should have said this. It had all sounded so simple when Mr. Carleton had enjoined his flock:
"Don't allow yourself to be kept out! Show them you've made up your mind to talk to them, and they'll listen."
The girl succumbed to Anthony's pleasant, melancholy face, and in a moment the door to the inner room opened and admitted a tall, splay-footed man with slicked hair. He approached Anthony with ill-concealed impatience.
"You wanted to see me on a personal matter?"
Anthony quailed.
"I wanted to talk to you," he said defiantly.
"About what?"
"It'll take some time to explain."