At that moment the door from the private stairway opened and a young girl came in. Her father had completely forgotten his appointment with her, and both men were taken aback by her entrance.
“I knocked, father,” she said, “but you did not hear me.”
“In a moment, Edna. Just step into the hall for a moment,” said her father, hurriedly.
“I beg of you not to leave, Miss Sartwell,” said Marsten, going to the other door and opening it. “Good-night, Mr. Sartwell.”
“Good-night,” said the manager, shortly.
“Good-night, Miss Sartwell.”
“Good-night,” said the girl sweetly, with the suggestion of a bow.
The eyes of the two men met for a moment, the obstinacy of the race in each; but the eyes of the younger man said defiantly:
“I have spoken to her, you see.”