She rose and gathered up her various belongings. Micky declared that she was always laden with small, oddly-shaped parcels.
“Samples, my dear man, samples!” she said briskly when Micky asked if he might not be allowed to carry some. “And they’re much too precious to risk you dropping any.”
“There’s just one stipulation,” Micky said as he followed her downstairs again. “You’re not to tell Miss Shepstone anything about me––I’m going to be very strict on this subject. Will you promise?”
“Bless your heart, yes––and if you come to tea one day–––”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll come to tea,” Micky said hastily. “I should only feel rotten––self-conscious and all the rest of it, even if I was quite sure she didn’t know anything––not that there’s anything to know yet,” he added quickly. “I may not be able to help her.”
Miss Mason laughed.
“Oh, you’ll help her right enough,” she said breezily. “I know you.”
She dismissed him when they reached the street. “No, I don’t want you to come with me; I’ve got some business to see to and you’d only be a nuisance.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Good-bye, and thanks ever so much Micky. You’ll write to me––or wire?”
“As soon as there is anything to report.”