But he was uncomfortable.
Anna was not in her office. Her coat and hat were not there. He was
surprised, somewhat relieved. It was out of his hands, then; she had
gone somewhere else to work. Well, she was a good stenographer. Somebody
was having a piece of luck.
Clayton, finding him short-handed, sent Joey over to help him pack up
his office belongings, the fittings of his desk, his personal papers,
the Japanese prints and rugs Natalie had sent after her single visit
to the boy's new working quarters. And, when Graham came back from
luncheon, Joey had a message for him.
"Telephone call for you, Mr. Spencer."
"What was it?"
"Lady called up, from a pay phone. She left her number and said she'd
wait." Joey lowered his voice confidentially. "Sounded like Miss Klein,"
he volunteered.
He was extremely resentful when Graham sent him away on an errand. And
Graham himself frowned as he called the number on the pad. It was like
a girl, this breaking off clean and then telephoning, instead of letting
the thing go, once and for all. But his face changed as he heard Anna's
brief story over the wire.
"Of course I'll come," he said. "I'm pretty busy, but I can steal a
half-hour. Don't you worry. We'll fix it up some way."
He was more concerned than deeply anxious when he rang off. It was
unfortunate, that was all. And the father was a German swine, and ought
to be beaten himself. To think that his Christmas gift had brought her
to such a pass! A leather strap! God!
He was vaguely uneasy, however. He had a sense of a situation being
forced on him. He knew, too, that Clayton was waiting for him at the new
plant. But Anna's trouble, absurd as its cause seemed to him, was his
responsibility.
It ceased to be absurd, however, when he saw her discolored features. It
would be some time before she could even look for another situation. Her
face was a swollen mask, and since such attraction as she had had for
him had been due to a sort of evanescent prettiness of youth, he felt a
repulsion that he tried his best to conceal.
"You poor little thing!" he said. "He's a brute. I'd like--" He clenched
his fists. "Well, I got you into it. I'm certainly going to see you
through."
She had lowered her veil quickly, and he felt easier. The telephone
booth was in the corner of a quiet hotel, and they were alone. He patted
her shoulder.