"No, I'm waiting for Mr. Parrish," said Beryl, in a tone that emphasized unwieldiness of an assembly of three persons.
"Your lipstick is smeared," said Westervelt.
Beryl gave him an even less believing stare than had Simonetta, but, glancing hastily at her watch, began to fumble out her compact.
"In here, where the light is better," said Westervelt.
He grabbed her by an elbow and dragged her into the office before it occurred to her to resist.
"Please, Willie! You're handling me!" she protested coldly.
Westervelt was already out the door again, bent upon taking the other entrance to Smith's office, when he saw the hall door of Parrish's office open. He reversed direction in time to meet Parrish as the latter stepped into the corridor.
"Beryl said to tell you she'll be right back," he said, waving a thumb vaguely in the direction of the rest rooms.
"Oh. Thanks, Willie," answered Parrish. "I'll wait inside."
Westervelt reached Smith's office before Parrish had completely closed his own door. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blue of Beryl's dress.