She began to clear Robert Holton’s table.
“What about my coffee?” asked the customer. “When I going to get it?”
“Right away.” Marjorie Ventusa finished cleaning Robert Holton’s table. Almost sadly she pocketed the ten-cent tip which he had left under the water glass.
Chapter Three
The elevator door opened and Caroline Lawson and Robert Holton stepped out of it and into the New York office of Heywood and Golden, members of the New York Stock Exchange and other organizations equally sound.
The entrance hall was modern and dignified. The walls were clean and white and there was a thick carpet on the floor. Two heavy leather couches furnished the entrance. A dark genteel girl sat behind a reception desk.
“Good morning, Caroline,” she said in a nasal voice. “Good morning, Bob.”
“Hello, Ruth,” said Robert Holton, and Caroline Lawson smiled at her.
“Anything new?” asked Robert Holton.
“Not a thing, Bob, not a thing. Everything’s just as dull as ever. Of course, it’s still early.”