They streamed out of the brokers’ offices and commission houses on either side of La Salle Street, and the tide set toward the upper end of the thoroughfare, where stood the girders and cables of the La Salle Street bridge.
Vance took all this in with a brief survey from the window, after he had sent his message across the river.
“What do you think?” said Bessie, as he paused once more beside her. “Mr. Vyce asked me to go to the theatre with him to-night. Hasn’t he a cheek?”
“Of course you accepted?” said Vance with a grin.
“Of course I did no such thing,” she answered, pausing for an instant in her work, as she looked up with an indignant flush on her creamy cheeks. “You know better than that, Vance. You just want to provoke me,” with a charming pout.
“That’s right,” he answered, with a quiet chuckle, “but you mustn’t mind me.”
She smiled her forgiveness and went on with her work.
“There, that’s done,” she said, in a few moments, pushing back her chair. “I hope I haven’t made any mistakes,” as she rose to take the sheets into the inner office.
“No fear of that, I guess,” said the boy, encouragingly. “You’re about as accurate as they come, Bessie.”
She paused on the threshold of the door to flash him back a look of appreciation for the compliment and then disappeared within.