As she caught his eye she waved
a silvery chinchilla muff at him--a marching salute--and passed on,
calling back to him: "Don't forget Gerald!"
"No," he said, "I won't forget Gerald." He stood a moment at the window
watching the brougham below where Nina awaited Miss Erroll. Then,
abruptly, he turned back into the room and picked up the telephone
receiver, muttering: "This is no time to mince matters for the sake of
appearances." And he called up Gerald at the offices of Neergard & Co.
"Is it you, Gerald?" he asked pleasantly. "It's all right about that
matter; I've sent you a note by your messenger. But I want to talk to
you about another matter--something concerning myself--I want to ask
your advice, in a way. Can you be at the Lenox by six? . . . You have an
engagement at eight? Oh, that's all right; I won't keep you. . . . It's
understood, then; the Lenox at six. . . . Good-bye."
There was the usual early evening influx of men at the Lenox who dropped
in for a glance at the ticker, or for a cocktail or a game of billiards
or a bit of gossip before going home to dress.
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