a little white sail which, seeing, she could not ⟨hope⟩ to identify.
He appeared at the office promptly on Monday morning, sunburned and relaxed from his long loaf in the wind. His father did not like his lassitude, but Ellen loved him, heavy-eyed and contented. She longed to lead him away under the shade of trees where he could stretch on the ground and sleep, if he would, while she sat by him.
But he went out to his round of calls and she took letters and answered phone through hours which dragged interminably. It was no day to work; it was a dogday, close and sultry; yesterday's sailing wind had died; and the hot afternoon sun hung in a halo of haze. Ellen went often to the water cooler; often she bathed her face and forehead; but Mr. Rountree, in black alpaca, shortened his stint not at all, nor did he excuse himself from a visit to the shop.
He departed; and at last the day was transformed. Jay returned. He flung his cards on the desk and himself upon a chair, stretching his legs before him.
"You're the coolest soul I've seen to-day," said Jay; and she exulted that she'd kept herself freshened. His eyes traveled from her face to her throat and to her arms bare from above the elbow.
Jay liked her rounded slenderness and the pretty tapering of her forearm to her wrist and her slim, strong little hand. She had been through the winter, or at least since he had been noticing her, white; but she had become brown with a clear, smooth tan lovely upon her.
