this morning, just after you were there," Pittsey hurried on, and he told me what you'd been doing, "I've been trying to connect with you ever since. Kidder said I must have passed you in the elevator as I came up."
Don shook his head, worried by the pain behind his eyes and by Pittsey's evasive explanations. "I didn't come down in the elevator. I walked. I've been walking ever since." He straightened up, shining-eyed. "How am I ever going to—to thank you two? I"
"Don't thank me," Pittsey interrupted. "It was Miss Morris."
"What a story!" she said. "I hadn't thought of the office. I was trying to get you into the company."
In the light of gratitude in which he saw her, she seemed even more beautiful than she had ever been before; and he looked at her with an expression of face which made Pittsey put in hastily: "The first thing you do, you buy a new overcoat and a new suit of clothes. Kuffman goes by exteriors. Get your hair cut à la Manhattan—and never let him see you smoking a pipe."
"I need shoes, too," Don acknowledged simply.
Pittsey rose. "I'll call for you to-morrow morning and see you outfitted. Then I'll introduce you to your new 'job.'"
"Wait a moment," Don pleaded. "I want to"
"No; you must go to your room now and have a sleep," Miss Morris said, bidding him good-bye. "I'll see you to-morrow, too." And disengaging themselves from Don's confused thanks, they went away
