He too was getting very hungry.
An hour passed, an hour and a half, two hours; and then he was again
summoned to the other room. There was no one in it except the
secretary--looking hot and red after a copious repast, speaking
jovially and familiarly, and seeming altogether more common and less
important than when under the restraining influence of bigwigs.
"Ah, here you are." And he chuckled amicably, and gave Dale a roguish
nod. "You've had your wires pulled A1 for you. It's decided to stretch
a point in your favor. Not to make a secret, they don't wish to run
counter to Mr. B.'s wishes. You have been lucky, Mr. Dale, in having
him behind you."
Dale gulped, but did not say anything.
"Very well. I am to inform you that you will be reinstated; but--in
order to allow the talk to blow over--you will not resume your duties
for a fortnight. You will take a fortnight's holiday--from now--on
full pay."
Dale said nothing. He could have said so much. At this moment he felt
that his victory had been intrinsically a defeat. But the strength had
gone from him; and in its place there was only joy--weak but immense
joy in the knowledge that all had ended happily. And the world would
say that he had won.
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