Varick looked astonished.
"I?"
"Why, yes," returned Miss Hultz, puzzled; "I heard you'd been promoted at the bank."
Varick had indeed again been promoted, the bank having made him assistant cashier of its uptown branch; but, as he explained to Miss Hultz, that didn't mean he was leaving Mrs. Tilney's.
"Well, it'd mean it with me," she rejoined with conviction. "I ain't saying anything against Mrs. Tilney's, of course; only you know"—a sapient smile accompanied this—"socially, boarding ain't to my idea. Give me something select—an apartment hotel, say; or, if you'd be real swagger, Riverside Drive with your own bath and kitchenette. I always wanted to be a bachelor girl," Miss Hultz concluded.
Varick agreed with her. Nothing, he assured her, could be sweller. Miss Hultz, having gathered up her key, her handkerchief, her handbag and her evening newspaper, favored him with another flashing smile, then departed.
"The tray's ready, Mr. Varick," called Lena from the pantry door.
Varick thanked her, and was starting toward the pantry when Jessup, rising from his chair, touched him on the arm.
"How's the patient?" asked the bookkeeper. "Mapleson any better?"
Varick shook his head. Mr. Mapleson, he said, was still in bed. For a week now the little man had kept to his room. Either Lena or Mrs. Tilney carried up his meals during the day, and at night Varick volunteered. They none of them knew just what was wrong with Mr. Mapleson. He had refused to let a doctor see him.