“It wouldn’t be fair to go without telling him,” said Morrison. “It wouldn’t be fair.”
“But you can’t think of him after that,” protested Clowes. “Oh! good gracious! There’s Calthrop coming in. It is getting worse and worse.”
Calthrop swung into the room with his magnificent stride. As usual, his entrance created a dramatic sensation. Logan, who had always decried his work, leaped to meet him and Mendel stood shyly waiting for his nod. . . . Whom would the great man speak to? That was the question. . . . He fixed his eyes on Oliver and strode up to her.
“You’re the best-looking woman in the room,” he said. “Do you like cinemas?”
“I adore them,” said Oliver, with an excited giggle.
“Now, now’s the chance!” whispered Clowes. “We can slip away now, before they begin drinking.”
“I must tell him,” replied Morrison, and, summoning up all her courage, she went up to Mendel and asked if she could speak to him. He went out with her, trembling in every limb.
“I am going,” she said. “I have just heard something. Clowes overheard you and Jessie Petrie. She ought not to have told me. I don’t know what I feel about it. Very wretched, chiefly. Please don’t try to see me.”
“I have told you what I am again and again,” he said.
“Yes. You are very honest, but it is hard for a girl to imagine these things. Please, please see how hard it is and let me be.”