The next morning in New York, Jasper ran across Mr. Whitney on Broadway.
"Well said; that you, Jasper? Why aren't you up at the house?"
"I came on the night express," said Jasper, finding it hard to wait a minute, "on a matter of importance for Mr. Marlowe. Sorry, Brother Mason, but I can't stop now."
"You'll be up to-night, of course," said Mason Whitney.
"I can't; I'm off for Troy," said Jasper concisely, "and I don't come back this way."
"Goodness! what a man your Marlowe is. And your sister Marian wants to hear about Polly and all the others; you've seen them so lately."
"It's impossible," began Jasper; "you see I can't help it, Brother
Mason; Mr. Marlowe's orders must be carried out."
"He's a beast, your Marlowe is," declared Mr. Whitney hotly. "I don't know what Marian will say when I tell her you are here in New York and won't stop for even a word with her."
"Sister Marian will say it's all right," said Jasper, a trifle impatiently, and feeling the loss of every moment a thing to be atoned for. "Mr. Marlowe is loaded up with trouble of all kinds. Now I must go."
"Hold on a minute," cried Mason Whitney. "Well, how are you getting on? Seems to me the publishing business doesn't agree with you. You look peaked enough," scanning Jasper's face closely.