"No," said Mary Louise. "I—it will be here in the morning."
He turned and stepped back into the sanctum of interwoven grilles and partitions.
Mary Louise was desperately nervous. It seemed that a thousand eyes were watching her; her back felt peppered with them. She shifted one foot and leaned slightly against the desk. All about her men were pressing up for mail, keys, reservations, information. She dared not look around. There were no women in the constricted circle of her vision except the telephone operator over to her left.
The clerk was taking a long time. She was getting even more anxious. Suddenly she heard her name called. It startled her even while it brought a tremendous sense of relief. She turned and Claybrook was standing by her elbow.
"How's tricks?" he inquired.
For a moment she could not answer, only look at him gratefully.
"I've been out of town. Just got back. Was going to call you up this evening, but I didn't have the chance," he went on.
She murmured something unintelligible.
"Waiting here for something?" At her nod of assent he came and stood beside her, leaning his elbow on the desk, his gaze idly and comfortably sweeping the lobby. "Hot to-night," he said.
The inscrutable clerk returned. Mary Louise felt his inspection before she actually saw him. She turned, expectant.