"Young miss," he said soberly, "do you ever hear anybody talking about
me in this jolly old City?"
"Why, yes," she said in surprise.
"Fearfully complimentarily, dear old miss?" asked Bones carelessly, and
the girl's colour deepened.
"I don't think it matters what people say about one, do you?"
"It doesn't matter to me," said Bones, "so long as one lovely old
typewriter has a good word for poor old Bones." He laid his hand upon
hers, and she suffered it to remain there without protest. "They think
I'm a silly old ass, don't they?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly, "they don't think that. They say you're
rather unconventional."
"Same thing," said Bones. "Anybody who's unconventional in business is
a silly old ass."
He squeezed the hand under his, and again she did not protest or
withdraw it from his somewhat clammy grip.
"Dear old darling----" began Bones, but she stopped him with a warning
finger.
"Dear old typewriter," said Bones, unabashed, but obedient, "suppose
something happened to the clever old Johnny who presides over this
office--the brains of the department, if I may be allowed to say so?"
"Captain Hamilton?" said the girl in surprise.
"No, me," said Bones, annoyed. "Gracious Heavens, dear old key-tapper,
didn't I say me?"
"Something happen to you?" she said in alarm. "Why, what could happen
to you?"
"Suppose I went broke?" said Bones, with the comfortable air of one who
was very unlikely to go broke. "Suppose I had terrific and tremendous
and cataclysmic and what's-the-other-word losses?"
"But you're not likely to have those, are you?" she asked.
"Not really," said Bones, "but suppose?"
She saw that, for once, when he was speaking to her, his mind was
elsewhere, and withdrew her hand. It was a fact that Bones did not
seem to notice the withdrawal.
"Poor old Bones, poor old mug!" said Bones softly. "I'm a funny old
devil."
The girl laughed.
"I don't know what you're thinking about," she said, "but you never
strike me as being particularly funny, or poor, or old, for the matter
of that," she added demurely.
Bones stooped down from the table and laid his big hand on her head,
rumpling her hair as he might have done to a child.
"You're a dear old Marguerite," he said softly, "and I'm not such a
ditherer as you think. Now, you watch old Bones." And, with that
cryptic remark, he stalked back to his desk.
Two days after this he surprised Hamilton.
"I'm expecting a visitor to-day, old Ham," he said. "A Johnny named de
Vinne."
"De Vinne?" frowned Hamilton. "I seem to know that name. Isn't he the
gentleman you had the trouble with over the boots?"
"That's the jolly old robber," said Bones cheerfully. "I've
telegraphed and asked him to come to see me."