"I'll take a few
minutes. Kindly sit down there and I'll show you how the man is
behaving."
Sharlee sat down as she was bidden, close by his side, piqued as to her
curiosity, as well as flattered by his royal condescension. She wore her
business suit, which was rough and blue, with a smart little pony coat.
She also wore a white veil festooned around her hat, and white gloves
that were quite unspotted from the world. The raw February winds had
whipped roses into her cheeks; her pure ultramarine eyes made the blue
of her suit look commonplace and dull. Dusk had fallen over the city,
and Queed cleverly bethought him to snap on an electric light. It
revealed a very shabby, ramshackle, and dingy office; but the long table
in it was new, oaken, and handsome. In fact, it was one of the repairs
introduced by the new management.
"Here," said he, "is his first letter--the one that brought me from New
York."
He took it from its envelope and laid it open on the table. A sense of
the pathos in this ready sharing of one's most intimate secrets with a
stranger took hold of Sharlee as she leaned forward to see what it might
say.
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