His
very expression condemned him far more than the incident itself.
And Clayton, along with his anger, was puzzled as to his best course.
Dunbar had said to leave the girl where she was. But - was it
feasible under these circumstances? He was rather irritated than
angry. He considered a flirtation with one's stenographer rotten
bad taste, at any time. The business world, to his mind, was
divided into two kinds of men, those who did that sort of thing,
and those who did not. It was a code, rather than a creed, that
the boy had violated.
Besides, he had bad a surprise. The girl who sat laughing into
Graham's face was not the Anna Klein he remembered, a shy, drab
little thing, badly dressed, rather sallow and unsmiling. Here
was a young woman undeniably attractive; slightly rouged, trim in
her white blouse, and with an air of piquancy that was added, had
he known it, by the large imitation pearl earrings she wore.
"Get your hat and go to lunch, Graham," he said. "And you might
try to remember that a slightly different standard of conduct is
expected from my son, here, than may be the standard of some of
the other men.
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