“No; I never saw him until this afternoon. It—it was very decent of him to ask me, I think.”
“Yes,” said the other, thoughtfully. “Don’t let me stop you, please. I’ll just wait a minute for Rob.”
Evan went on with his unpacking, catching now and then as he went to and fro between trunk and closet and bureau a glimpse of the caller. He was a very good-looking fellow, with dark hair and eyes and a softness about mouth and chin that was almost girlish. He sat with elbow on knee, and chin in hand, looking dreamily across the room, evidently quite forgetful of Evan’s presence. After a while the silence grew oppressive.
“My name’s Kingsford,” announced Evan. The other looked up slowly and nodded.
[“‘HELLO!’ HE SAID. ‘OH, BEG PARDON. WHERE’S ROB?’”]
“Thanks. Mine’s Warne.” Then he went back to his rapt study of the opposite wall. Evan was distinctly relieved when he heard Rob’s footsteps in the hall.
“Well,” said Rob, as he came in, “it’s all— Hello, Mal! Where’d you come from? Been waiting long? Kingsford, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Warne, a particular friend of mine. Mal, this is Mr. Kingsford. He and I are going to try it together.”