"Shall you tell him of your book—about 'The Spirit of the Cathedral'?"
Philip shook his head. "That might frighten him. He would think that I had an ax to grind."
"But you have sent your manuscript to another publishing house," she persisted.
"That is true," he assented, "but until I hear definitely, I do not care to talk of my forthcoming book. Besides, the man is here for rest and change. If I am able to make him my friend he may possibly tell me things. Above all, I must not bore him with my own uncertain achievements." He laughed, tugging at his golf shoe. "But you shall try your art on the man this evening; I have promised to present him."
"I will do my best," Isabel answered. "And by reason of the dance to-night the bride may wear white satin. She is irresistible in la robe empire."
Philip faced her. "I see all my manuscripts accepted at once," he said jestingly.
"Of course. Now run along; do not keep our great man waiting. I shall rest for an hour, then write to madame and Reginald."
"And you are really able for a ball, after the high steps of the mission tower?"
It was the first time that he had spoken of their morning's experience. Isabel was overjoyed at his light reference to the visit to the old church.
"To dance will limber me, beyond doubt," she declared, with a wave of her hand. She watched him pass down the hall to the elevator; then she went back to her sitting-room.