At six, not being dressed yet, she put on a belted chamber robe and trotted into the living room, as confidently as though she had no doubts concerning what she was about to do.
It seemed to take a long while for the operator to make the connection, and Palla’s hand trembled a little where it held the receiver tightly against her ear. When, presently, a servant answered:
“Please say to him that a client wishes to speak to him regarding an investment.”
Finally she heard his voice saying: “This is Mr. James Shotwell Junior; who is it wishes to speak to me?”
“A client,” she faltered, “––who desires to––to participate with you in some plan for the purpose of––of improving our mutual relationship.”
“Palla.” She could scarcely hear his voice.
“I––I’m so unhappy, Jim. Could you come to-night?”
He made no answer.
“I suppose you haven’t heard that Jack Estridge is very ill?” she added.
“No. What is the trouble?”