"Then let him come out like a man and say plainly what he wants. I cannot possibly drop my work to try to solve entirely superfluous enigmas. Keep all this in mind—take an interest in it, will you?" he added briskly. "Possibly I might need your help some day."
"Certainly I will. I appreciate your telling me about it, and I'd be so glad to help you in any way that I could."
"How do you like my editorials?" he demanded abruptly.
"I'm afraid I don't understand a line of them!"
He waved his hand indulgently, like a grandfather receiving the just tribute of his little ones. "They are for thinkers, experts," said he, and picked up his pencil.
The agent took the hint; pushed back her chair; her glove was unbuttoned and she slowly fastened it. In her heart was a great compassion for the little Doctor.
"Mr. Queed, I want you to know that if I ever could be of help to you about anything, I'd always think it a real pleasure. Please remember that, won't you? Did you know I lived down this way, in the daytime?"
"Lived?"
She made a gesture toward the window, and away to the south and east. "My office is only three blocks away, down there in the park—"
"Your office? You don't work!"