"
"I have to go out to-night," he said evasively. "I'll come some
other time."
As he started away he glanced back at her. She was standing in the
doorway, eying him wistfully, a lonely and depressed little figure.
He was tempted to throw discretion to the wind and go back. But he
did not.
On the day when Clayton had broached the subject of offering their
output to the government at only a banker's profit, Anna called him
up at his new office in the munition plant.
He was rather annoyed. His new secretary was sitting across the
desk, and it was difficult to make his responses noncommittal.
"Graham!"
"Yes."
"Is anybody there? Can you talk?"
"Not very well."
"Then listen; I'll talk. I want to see you."
"I'm busy all day. Sorry."
"Listen, Graham, I must see you. I've something to tell you."
"All right, go ahead."
"It's about Rudolph. I was out looking for a position yesterday
and I met him."
"Yes?"
He looked up. Miss Peterson was absently scribbling on the cover
of her book, and listening intently.
Pages:
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