"I'm afraid I'll have to," he replied. "Please don't think I'm a boor or anything of that sort, Elise. I should like nothing better than to spend the rest of the day and evening with you, but—some other time."
"Why didn't you answer my letter inviting you to Greenwich for the week-end?"
"Because I received a wire from John that he wasn't returning until the following Monday," he said sharply. "And I naturally supposed you had received the same information and that it automatically cancelled the invitation."
A little smile played around her lips and she said softly, "What a safe and sane and altogether good person you have developed into, Rodrigo." She picked up her purse from the table and rose slowly to her feet. "Well, I suppose I can call Rita Corson or somebody. You're sure you are playing the business slave?"
"I'm sorry," he bowed. "Some evening soon we'll make it a foursome with John and you and Mary and me."
"How interesting," she smiled, and he saw her to the door.
He watched her wending her serene way down the deserted aisle to the street door, then picked up his brief case and went into his own office. A few minutes later, he heard footsteps and judged correctly that it was Mary returning to her sanctum for her coat and hat. He unbuckled his brief case and took out of it a slender book bound in blue and gold. He walked quickly out through the main room and into the office marked "John Dorning." Mary was seated at John's desk staring into space, her eyes a little moist and red.
"I've found the book we were talking about the other evening, Mary," he said cheerfully. "'The Anonymous Sonnets.' I located it in Dobell's collection."
She summoned an answering smile, but her voice was dull as she said. "You have a treasure then. It's very rare."
He came closer. "It isn't for me, Mary. I intended it for your birthday to-morrow."