As the clerk stepped into Kent's office McIntyre saw a woman sitting
by the empty desk. She turned her head on hearing footsteps and
their glances met. A faint exclamation broke from her.
"Margaret!" McIntyre strode past Sylvester. "What are you doing
here?"
Mrs. Brewster's ready laugh hid all sign of embarrassment. "Must
you know?" she asked archly. "That is hardly fair to Barbara."
"So Barbara sent you here with a message!" Mrs. Brewster treated
his remark as a statement and not a question, and briskly changed
the subject.
"I can't wait any longer," she pouted. "Please tell Mr. Kent that
I am sorry not to have seen him."
"I will, madam." Sylvester placed McIntyre's card in the center of
Kent's desk and flew to open the door for Mrs. Brewster.
As the widow stepped into the corridor she brushed by an
over-dressed woman, whose cheap finery gave clear indication of her
tastes. Hardly noticing another's presence she turned and took
McIntyre's arm and they strolled off together, her soft laugh
floating back to where Mrs.
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