"Mr. Sternford 'phoned me after his interview with you."
"He had your 'phone number?"
"Surely, I gave him that before he left me after driving up from the docks."
"I see. Of course. You drove up together after landing. I forgot."
Nancy laughed.
"I don't think I told you," she said. "But it doesn't matter, anyway. Yes, he drove me up. And the whole of this affair was so interesting I just had to hear the result of the interview with you. So I told him my 'phone number. Well, right after he'd seen you he rang me up. He told me he couldn't speak over the 'phone the things that passed, and asked me to dine. I just had to fall for that. You see, this thing meant so much to me. It was the first big thing I'd handled, and—and I was so crazy to make good for you. So I promised. And it wasn't till after it was all fixed I realised the mean way I'd acted. You'll forgive me, won't you, Mr. Peterman? I just hadn't a notion to be mean, and I was all tired to death. But I had to hear about the things you'd fixed."
"And you heard?"
The man was leaning on the desk with one hand supporting his head. Not one shadow of condemnation or resentment was permitted in voice or look. And the girl was completely disarmed. But her smile died out and a swift apprehension, that had no relation to herself, replaced it. In a moment her mind had gone back to the declaration of war which was to involve the two enterprises.
"Yes. He told me."
"And—?"