“Mighty sorry to call luncheon off. Am hurrying to catch a train for Philadelphia for the rest of the day. Will see you later.—Broadwell.”
... Bellair folded this thoughtfully. The stenographer brought the letter with copy. The front draft was approved for signature, and Bellair’s morning work accomplished.
In the hall he met Davy Acton, and followed a quick impulse.
“Davy, lad, how soon will you be ready to go out to lunch?”
“In about three minutes——”
“I’ll wait for you. I’m going your way.”
Davy’s customary exit was the side-door. Bellair waited there accordingly. The girls were coming down the iron stairway from the bindery. He stepped back in the shadow to let them pass. There were figures and faces that clutched at his throat.... And then a story began, half way up the first flight, and came nearer and nearer, the voice carrying easily to one who listened with emotion:
“Did you know that Mr. Bellair was back?... Bellair, the absconding clerk—Mr. Sproxley’s assistant. Lot & Company has refused to prosecute. He will not be arrested.... And think of his nerve—asking his old position back——”
... They saw merely the back of a man, if they saw him at all. The talk was not interrupted on the way to the street and beyond.... Bellair came up with a start to find the boy at his side.
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