"And that's settled," said Enoch, "and we can forget it. Miss Allen, when shall you go back to the Canyon?"
"Why," answered Diana, looking a little startled, "not till I've finished the work for Mr. Watkins, and that will take six months, at least."
"I think the President's idea will be that you must get to your own work, at once. Some one else can carry on Watkins' researches."
"I ought to do some studying in the Congressional library," protested
Diana. "Don't you think Washington can endure me a few months longer,
Mr. Secretary?"
"Endure you!" Enoch's voice broke a little, and he gave Diana a glance in which he could not quite conceal the anguish.
A sudden silence fell between the two that was broken by the waiter's appearance with the first course. Then Diana said, casually:
"My father is going to be very happy when I write him about this. Do you remember him at all clearly, Mr. Secretary?"
"Yes," replied Enoch. Then with a quick, direct look, he asked, "Did your father, ever give you the details of his experience with me in the Canyon?"
Diana's voice was low but very steady as she replied, "Yes, Mr. Secretary. He told me long ago, when you made your famous Boyhood on the Rack speech in Congress. It was the first word he had heard of you in all the years and he was deeply moved."
"I'm glad he told you," said Enoch. "I'm glad, because I'd like to ask you to be my friend, and I would want the sort of friend you would make to know the worst as well as the best about me."