Imogene returned to the piano. Kimberly walked to the door of the dining-room with the others. "I will go upstairs," he said to Lottie Nelson.
"Don't stay all night," she returned peremptorily. "And come have something before you go up."
"Perhaps when I come down."
Fritzie caught his arm, and walked with him into the hall. They talked for a moment. "You must meet her," declared Fritzie at length, "she is perfectly lovely and will be over after a while with Dolly." Then she looked at him suddenly: "I declare, I don't believe you've heard a word of what I've been saying."
"I'm afraid not, Fritzie, but no matter, listen to what I say. Don't go in there and drink with that bunch."
"I won't."
"Whiskey makes a fool of you."
Fritzie put up her hand: "Now don't scold."
Upstairs, Nelson and Charles Kimberly, facing each other, were seated at a big table on which lay a number of type-written sheets, beautifully clear and distinct. These they were examining.
"What are you going over?" asked Robert, taking the chair Nelson drew up for him.