And, indeed, Marcia Ames, as she stood there beneath the hard, revealing light of the overhead arc, was a vision to dazzle any man, and, taken on an empty heart, to make him dizzy. The years had fulfilled her; had added splendor to her compelling beauty without withdrawing that almost fantastically delicate and elusive challenge of youth. She seated herself, and Jem took his accustomed position behind the editorial table.
“That is well,” she said lightly. “Is that how you receive callers on business?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I have come on business.”
“Where did you come from? I can’t quite believe it’s really you—here!”
“From Chicago. Buddy brought me.”
“Buddy Higman?”
“He came after me. He told me that you were in great trouble.”
“He told you that I was going to desert the ship.”
“Oh, no! Buddy is your loyal subject. The Boss can do no wrong.”