“But won’t it disturb his work?”
“Nothing does. He writes with an open door and a shut brain.”
He led her up the east flight of stairs and down a long hallway to an end room with door ajar, notwithstanding that even at that distance the hum of voices and the muffled throbbing of the concert grand piano from below were plainly audible. Banneker’s voice, regular, mechanical, desensitized as the voices of those who dictate habitually are prone to become, floated out:
“Quote where ignorance is bliss ‘tis folly to be wise end quote comma said a poet who was also a cynic period. Many poets are comma but not the greatest period. Because of their—turn back to the beginning of the paragraph, please, Miss Westlake.”
“I’ve brought up an old friend, Ban,” announced Edmonds, pushing wide the door.
Vaguely smiling, for he had trained himself to be impervious to interruptions, the editorializer turned in his chair. Instantly he sprang to his feet, and caught Miss Van Arsdale by both hands.
“Miss Camilla!” he cried. “I thought you said you couldn’t come.”
“I’m defying the doctors,” she replied. “They’ve given me so good a report of myself that I can afford to. I’ll go down now and wait for you.”
“No; don’t. Sit up here with me till I finish. I don’t want to lose any of you,” said he affectionately.
But she laughingly refused, declaring that he would be through all the sooner for his other guests, if she left him.