Linder sprang to attention, gave a salute in which mock deference could not entirely obscure the respect beneath, and set about on his commissions, while Grant devoted the afternoon to a session with Murdoch and Jones, to neither of whom would he reveal his plans further than to say he was going west “to engage in some development work.” During the afternoon it was noted that Grant’s interest centred more in a certain telephone call than in the very gratifying financial statement which Murdoch was able to place before him. And it was probably as a result of that telephone call that a taxi drew up in front of Murdoch’s home at exactly six-thirty that evening and bore Miss Phyllis Bruce and an officer wearing a captain’s uniform in the direction of the best hotel in the city.
The dining-room was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and soft strains of music stole vagrantly about its high arching pillars, mingling with the chatter of lovely women and of men to whom expense was no consideration. Grant was conscious of a delicious sense of intimacy as he helped Phyllis remove her wraps and seated himself by her at a secluded corner table.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “I don’t make compliments for exercise, but you do look stunning to-night!”
A warmth of color lit up her cheek—he had noticed at Murdoch’s how pale she was—and her eyes laughed back at him with some of their old-time vivacity.
“I am so glad,” she said. “It seems almost like old times—”
They gave their orders, and sat in silence through an overture. Grant was delighting himself simply in her presence, and guessed that for her part she could not retract the confession her love had wrung from her so long ago.
“There are some things which don’t change, Phyllis,” he said, when the orchestra had ceased.
She looked back at him with eyes moist and dreamy. “I know,” she murmured.
There seemed no reason why Grant should not there and then have laid himself, figuratively, at her feet. And there was not any reason—only one. He wanted first to go west. He almost hoped that out there some light of disillusionment would fall about him; that some sudden experience such as he had known the night before would readjust his personality in accordance with the inevitable...
“I asked you to dine with me to-night,” he heard himself saying, “for two reasons: first, for the delight of your exquisite companionship; and second, because I want to place before you certain business plans which, to me at least, are of the greatest importance.