"Of course," said Carter. "And now suppose you and I get a bite of lunch."
He took her to the Biltmore, an elegant hostelry she had never visited before. The splendor of the place dazzled her. Carter addressed the majordomo at the entrance to the restaurant by his first name and that impressive official called him "Mr. Carter" and led them to a choice table. Jane was tremendously thrilled.
"After all, this is the only proper setting for a pretty girl like you," Carter flattered her, after they had given their order. And as he leaned across the table intimately toward her, she did look very beautiful indeed, her face flushed with this new experience and her worry over Pop.
"It is the first time I have ever been here," she confessed simply. His ardent tone embarrassed her.
"But not the last, I hope—with me," he urged.
She blushed. He was an attractive man in a dangerous sort of way—dark, polished, handsome.
While they were talking, Carter caught the eye of a stout, gray haired, distinguished looking man who was lunching alone at a table near them. The latter made a little beckoning motion with his head. Carter excused himself and went over to him. It was President Donaldson of the Inter-City Railways. Carter slid into the vacant chair beside him.
"How are you coming with the Crosstown business?" Donaldson asked.
"Fine. It's as good as closed," Carter replied. "Tomorrow I'll have the papers signed. It will take all of your $75,000, however."
