“From eleven on.”
“Father? No, I don’t think so.”
“His secretary came down and told me so, or sent word each time.”
She smiled pityingly at him.
“Of course. That’s what a secretary is for.”
“To tell lies?”
“White lies. You see, dad is a very busy man, and an important man, and many people come to see him whom he hasn’t time to see. So, unless he knew your business, he would naturally be ‘out’ to you.”
The corners of the young man’s rather sensitive mouth flattened out perceptibly.
“Ah, I see. My mistake. Living in countries where, however queer the people may be, they at least observe ordinary human courtesies, one forgets—if one ever knew.”
“What did you want of dad?”