And Sally Winthrop had given him, in her own life, a new point of view on woman. He understood that she had never married because she had never happened to fall in love. She had always been too busy. But if ever she did fall in love, what a partner she would make! Partner––that was the word.
“It’s in you to get everything in the world you want,” she had said last night, when she was leaving him.
So it was. He gulped down the rest of his coffee and glanced at his watch. It was shortly after one. He must stay down here another half-hour––stay around these streets where he had walked with her and where she had made him see straight––until he had just time to meet Frances.
He went out and walked past the office of Carter, Rand & Seagraves, and then walked to the Elevated station where she took the train at night for home. The sight of the steps up which they had climbed together made him almost homesick. He wished to Heaven that she had postponed her vacation another day. If only he could see her a few minutes right now, he would be absolutely sure of himself.
It was after two when he reached the house, but Frances was not ready. She was never quite ready.
“I’ll wait outside,” he told the maid.
The maid raised her brows a trifle, but answered civilly:––
“Very well, sir.”
As he walked back and forth the Stuyvesant machine also drew up before the door and 229 waited. He viewed it with suspicion. He could not say what he had to say in that. She must be afoot, as Sally Winthrop always was.