Usually it was to telephone;
sometimes to write a note, and for some reason or other both of these
operations took up considerably more time than was absolutely
necessary. On one occasion he was sitting near her desk nearly all
afternoon. He had asked her to get Chicago on the long distance. There
was trouble on the wires, as had happened once before with Washington,
and it was two hours before he got his number. Strangely enough, the
delay did not seem to annoy him. He sat leisurely near her desk and
chatted with her about theatres, music, books and art, finding her
well read and conversant with every topic, especially with art, which
was his hobby. He seemed sorry when at last he had no longer an excuse
to stay. All that time he had watched her, quietly noting and admiring
the calm, skilful way she went about her work.
The girl interested him. Not so much because she was good looking as
that she was quite different from other women. Her cold, distant air,
her spirit of self-reliance and independence pleased him. Most women
he had known had offered themselves shamelessly; this girl had kept
him at a distance. This in itself would be enough to attract most men.
The very novelty of it appealed to him. She was exceedingly pretty,
too, yet hers was not the banal, conventional beauty of every day, but
something fresher, more fascinating, more lovable, an indefinable,
elusive charm that kept him guessing, yet always accompanied by a
quiet dignity that compelled respect.
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