“Come in!” called Baron. “Excuse me for not coming to meet you. You know I’ve got a bad ankle.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Addis, whose robust presence somehow had the effect of making all the aspects of the room effeminate and trivial. “You—were expecting me?”
“No—that is,” bungled Baron, “we’re delighted to have you call.”
Addis reflected. “And Miss Baron?” he asked.
“She’s up in the attic just now. There are some callers, I believe.”
A dull flush mounted to the visitor’s forehead. “I’m afraid I made a mistake,” he said. He arose, casting a keen glance at Baron.
“You didn’t. You didn’t make any mistake at all. We won’t wait for them to come down. Come, let’s follow, if you don’t mind.”
“Follow—” said Addis.
“We’ll go up to the attic.”