In comfortable chairs before the fire, conversation continued over coffee, and later, over whisky and soda.
You seem to read more up here than any one downtown does, Gareth remarked to Mary. I don't see how you find the time.
It's my business, you see.
Yes, but the others . . . You were telling me you have calls for Aldous Huxley.
To be perfectly frank, most of the customers prefer A. S. M. Hutchinson.
Well, that's more human, Gareth said. I was beginning to be afraid you were paragons.
A bell tinkled.
That must be Robert Kasson's son, Mrs. Sumner announced. You know Robert Kasson of Philadelphia, she interjected to Galva Waldeck. Byron's just arrived in New York, like Dick Whittington, to make his fortune.
I hope he's brought a cat! cried Galva.
I don't know about the cat, but he may have brought a typewriter. His ambition is to become an author.
Mary's hands were trembling. Her heart was thumping. At this instant the door swung open and he stood framed in the doorway.
After the introductions he came straight towards her.
This must be fate, he said. This is the first day
