He
did not find her in until eight and--oh, climax of anticlimaxes!--she
could give him no engagement until Tuesday afternoon. A broken piece of
gutta-percha clattered to the floor as he banged up the phone.
BLACK MAGIC
Tuesday was freezing cold. He called at a bleak two o'clock and as they
shook hands he wondered confusedly whether he had ever kissed her; it
was almost unbelievable--he seriously doubted if she remembered it.
"I called you four times on Sunday," he told her.
"Did you?"
There was surprise in her voice and interest in her expression. Silently
he cursed himself for having told her. He might have known her pride did
not deal in such petty triumphs. Even then he had not guessed at the
truth--that never having had to worry about men she had seldom used the
wary subterfuges, the playings out and haulings in, that were the stock
in trade of her sisterhood. When she liked a man, that was trick enough.
Did she think she loved him--there was an ultimate and fatal thrust. Her
charm endlessly preserved itself.
"I was anxious to see you," he said simply. "I want to talk to you--I
mean really talk, somewhere where we can be alone.
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