“This is a sort of show-down with me,” he went on. “I’m leaving New York. I really hoped to see Mr. Higgins.”
His dilemma seemed real. It pulled her out from herself.
“I’m sorry——”
“Perhaps you—I’d have to know before to-morrow,” he said jerkily. “Perhaps you’d look at another story just finished? If you would read it—there is just a chance you might want to get it to Mr. Higgins before I go.”
“Have you the story with you?”
“No. I was hoping for good word from one of the others first. This new one is my last wallop. Might I bring it to you, anywhere you say, this evening?”
“You may leave it with Miss Claes at 54 Harrow Street.”
“Are you Miss Claes?”
“No, but she will give it to me.”
“Could I call later in the evening also, for your answer? It is only four or five thousand words.”