He ate then and she put dirty dishes on her tray. Then he said, “When’re you going to Italy with me?”
She laughed. “I got some previous engagements before. Any other time, though.”
“I’m told it’s nice there,” said Holton and she noticed that he looked sad and she was happy to think that he was a little concerned about her, that he was almost serious when he talked about Italy.
“Maybe we’ll go some other time,” she said.
“Sure,” said Holton, “maybe we’ll go some other time.” He drank his coffee. He looked at his watch. “Lord, I’m late,” he said. He paid her quickly. “See you at lunch.”
“See you at lunch, Mr Holton.” She watched him go out the door and into the crowded street.
She cleared his table. Then she went gaily back to the kitchen, her hair bobbing mysteriously in its snood. She was glad she hadn’t told him she’d seen him in Times Square.
“Late, aren’t you?” asked Caroline when Holton came into the office. She knew he was late but she was in a mood of violent humor; she was always this way when she was happy and she was happy today because of Trebling.
“Not very,” said Holton and he went to his desk. Mr Murphy hadn’t come in yet and he was safe. Caroline sat for a moment enjoying the pale white sunlight that shone across her desk. Then she got up and came over to Holton’s desk.