He nodded.
She bent over and from somewhere took a five dollar bill, which she tossed to the waiter. He came back with four dollars in change. Nonchalantly, Valerie Keat waved the money away.
“Keep the change, Ito,” she said. The waiter bowed himself back to the kitchen and fainted.
“I seldom tip more than two dollars,” the woman explained, “but Ito has a wife and nine kiddies. Don’t you just love kiddies, Ned?”
Had he misjudged the woman, Edwin Dell wondered?
“Besides,” went on Valerie Keat, and her voice broke a little, “he reminds me of my father.”
Clouds seemed to lift from Edwin Dell. Surely it was not possible to suspect the honorableness of the intentions of a woman who spoke like that about her father.
“Will you stop at my studio?” he heard Valerie Keat saying. “I want to give you a book I think you should read.”
“I only read books on ecclesiastical and theological subjects,” he said.
“That’s just what this book is,” she assured him.