“You can’t see him now. He’s busy.”
There was a sharp, impatient call from the inner office.
“Yes sir, I’m coming,” replied the girl.
“Well, be quick about it,” returned the voice. “Do you think I can wait all day?”
“That’s John Boland, isn’t it?” inquired the man eagerly.
Miss Masters nodded assent.
“Well, tell him—”
“I’m sorry,” broke in the girl, “but he’s busy. He won’t see anyone.”
“Well then, tell him when you can that Martin Druce called.”
“Martin Druce!” Miss Masters kept her eyes on the blank page before her, but she made no effort to make a memorandum of the name. She added slowly: