“And it will be turned over to you — excuse me. If you please, Archie.”
It was the phone. I wheeled to my desk and got it. I recognized the quiet controlled voice before she gave her name, and made my own tones restrained and dignified as she deserved. I don’t like hysterics any better than Wolfe does.
I turned to Helen Frost: “Your mother would like to speak to you.” I got up and held my chair for her, and she moved over to it.
“Yes, mother... Yes... No, I didn’t... I know you said that, but under the circumstances — I can’t very well tell you now... I couldn’t ask Uncle Boyd about it because he wasn’t back from lunch yet, so I just told Mrs. Lamont where I was going... No, mother, that’s ridiculous, don’t you think I’m old enough to know what I’m doing?... I can’t do that, and I can’t explain till I see you, and when I leave here I’ll come straight home but I can’t tell now when that will be... Don’t worry about that, and for heaven’s sake give me credit for having a little sense... No... Good-bye...”
She had color in her face again as she rose and returned to her seat. Wolfe had narrow eyes on her. He murmured sympathetically: “You don’t like people fussing about you, do you, Miss Frost? Even your mother. I know. But you must tolerate it. Remember that physically and financially you are well worth some fuss. Mentally you are — well — in the pupa stage. I hope you don’t mind my discussing you.”
“It would do me no good to mind it.”
“I didn’t say it would. I only said I hoped you didn’t. About your inheritance; I presume it will be turned over to you when you come of age on May seventh.”
“I presume it will.”
“That is only five weeks off. Twenty-nine, thirty-six — five weeks from tomorrow. Two million dollars. Another responsibility for you. Will you continue to work?”
“I don’t know.”