“I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t know.... Somehow this morning the sight of that date made me do a thing I haven’t done since—I don’t know when. I had a consuming desire to celebrate.”
The girl’s head was bent low, the better to see her work.
“Yes?” she said.
Again the man stroked his chin, with the former movement of whimsical deliberation.
“Do you know what people down town, people I do business with, call me, Elice?” he asked.
“Never heard of ‘old man’ Roberts?”
“No,” again.
“Well, that’s me—old man Roberts—old man—thirty-four.... By the way, what do you call me, Elice?”
“Mr. Roberts,” steadily.