Crossing the room slowly, he lifted and looked at the
different papers on the desk. They had a substantial feeling,
an importance, an air of value. They were like the solemn
keys to so many vexed problems. Beside the papers were a heap
of letters neatly arranged and as yet unopened. He turned
them over one by one. They were all thick, and interesting to
look at. He smiled as he recalled his own scanty mail:
envelopes long and bulky or narrow and thin--unwelcome
manuscripts or very welcome checks. Having sorted the letters,
he hesitated. It was his task to open them, but he had never
in his life opened an envelope addressed to another man.
He stood uncertain, weighing them in his hand.
Then all at once a look of attention and surprise crossed his
face, and he raised his head. Some one had unmistakably
paused outside the door which Greening had left ajar.
There was a moment of apparent doubt, then a stir of skirts, a
quick, uncertain knock, and the intruder entered.
For a couple of seconds she stood in the doorway; then, as
Loder made no effort to speak, she moved into the room.
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