“An older man,” Bertha said. “A man who seems to—”
“Oh, I’ll bet it was the blind man!”
Bertha seemed somewhat chagrined that Josephine Dell had guessed the identity of her client so easily. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t, except that you seemed so confident I’d never think who it was that I realized it must be someone rather unusual. You know, I think a lot of him. I was thinking about him only today, wondering how I could let him know that I was getting along all right.” She laughed and went on, “You just can’t write a letter addressed to the blind man who sells neckties in front of a bank building, can you?”
“Hardly,” Bertha said.
“Will you tell him how very, very much I appreciate his interest?”
Bertha nodded.
“Tell him that it means a lot to me. I’ll probably see him myself tomorrow morning or the day after if there aren’t any further complications. I think he’s just a dear.”
“He seems very fond of you,” Bertha said. “Rather an unusual type — very observant.”
“Well, you tell him for me that I’m all right, and that I sent my love. Will you do that?”