The Voice in the Fog - Page 68/93

Sugar, coffee and spices. Thomas dipped his pen into the inkwell and

went to work. Were all American fathers mad? To condone an affront

like this! He could not understand these Americans. He had approached

Killigrew with far more courage than the latter suspected. Thomas had

read that here men still shot each other on slight provocation. Sugar,

coffee and spices. . . . Sao Paulo and valorization committee . . .

10,000,000 bags. What should he do? Whither should he turn? To have

offered that affront . . . for nothing! Kitty, whom he revered above

all women save one, his mother! . . . Sugar, coffee and spices. Rio

number seven, 7 1/2 to 13 1/2 cents. Leaks in the roasting

business. . . . Apologize? On his knees, if need be. Caught like a

rat in a trap; done for; at the end of his rope. Why hadn't he taken

to his heels when he had had the chance? Gone at once to New York and

sent for his belongings? . . . Sugar, coffee and spices. . . . The

pen slipped from his fingers, and he laid his head on his arms.

Monumental ass!

Up suddenly, alert eyed. There was a telephone-booth in the hall.

This he sought noiselessly. He remained hidden in the booth for as

long as twenty minutes. Then he emerged, wiping the perspiration from

his forehead. For the time being he was saved. But he was very

miserable.

Sugar, coffee and spices again. Doggedly he recommenced the

transcription, adding, deducting, comparing. He heard a slight noise

by the portière, and raised his eyes. Kitty stood there like a picture

in a frame; pale, calm of eye.

He was on his feet quickly. "Miss Killigrew, I apologize for my

unwarranted rudeness. I did not mean it as you thought I did"--which

would have made any other woman furious.

"I know it," said Kitty to herself. "You wanted an excuse to run away.

All my conjectures are true. I believe I have you, Mr. Thomas, right

in the hollow of my hand." To Thomas, however, she was a presentiment

of cold and silent indignation.

He blundered on. "You have all been so kind to me . . . I am sorry.

I am also quite ready to stay or go, whichever you say."

"We shall say no more about it," she replied coldly; turned on her trim

little heels and went out into the rose gardens, where she found fault

with the head gardener; and on to the stables, where she rated the head

groom for not exercising her favorite mount; and back to the villa,

where she upset the cook by ordering a hearty breakfast which she could

not eat; and all the time striving to smother her generous impulses and

the queer little thrills which stirred in her heart.