Steeled for the worst, Justin was surprised at the half-mocking grin with which Chandler greeted him. "I don't know what you did to my niece last night, Charles," he said, "but you've been the devil of a long time getting to it. She was on the phone this morning, demanding I have you fired."
"I rather expected that, Dev," said Justin. "Drink?"
"Not now," said Chandler. He sank into an armchair, looked at Justin quizzically. "I don't know what got into you, but then I don't know how you could stand Marie this long. She's used you for all you were worth."
"That's not quite her story," said Justin, sitting on a corner of his desk. "She seems to think that without you and her connection with you I'd be counting change in a teller's cage out in Melrose."
"Possibly—but we'd be the losers, Charles," Chandler told him. "I don't like to crowd your business hours but I thought it only proper to set your mind at rest."
"Thanks—I appreciate it," said Justin.
There was a long, rather awkward pause. Then Chandler cleared his throat and said, "I suppose Marie will trap Jack Fellowes next. Too bad—he's not a bad apple."
"There are worse around."
Chandler stood up, cut at the carpet with his cane. He remarked without looking up, "From what Marie tells me you seem to have come up with a rather remarkable young woman. You wouldn't mind telling me how it happened?"
"If I hadn't decided to turn in early," said Justin, "and if I hadn't used a certain mental device to go back to sleep after you woke me up with your call from the party...." He stopped and shook his head helplessly. "You wouldn't believe me if I did explain it."