Tossing the glass off at one gulp, Harris left the room.
IV.
As Walter was about to open the door to his private office the sound of girlish laughter floated over the open transom.
“It must be Diana,” he said. Opening the door he stepped into his office.
“Good morning, Andrews,” said his partner, “allow me.” He took Andrews’ arm and led him up to the sofa where the young lady of his dreams was seated.
Andrews bowed his acknowledgment of the introduction. He could not trust himself to speak. The room was swimming about him and he seemed to be enveloped in a hazy mist, out of which a woman’s voice was saying, “I made bold, Mr. Andrews, to come in and arrange your office; freshen it up a bit, you understand.”
Andrews pulled himself together and looked about him. The usual staid office was transformed into a flower garden. Flowers were banked upon each other in a way which bespoke a practised hand.
Roberts and his niece left Andrews’ office and went to the firm’s waiting rooms.
“What is the matter with your partner?” Diana asked, “he has such a far away look in his eyes and he seems to be miles away from the office.”
“Only lately, my dear, only lately. I believe you have had some thing to do with it.”