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238 “You’re right. I beg your pardon. ’Twas just a slip.”

He took a turn up and down the room, and when he came back to the hearth rug he spoke in his usual matter-of-fact way.

“I am to make an appointment, then, for you, with Mr. Frohman, at his office?”

“If you will,” she answered gratefully.

“When will you come to New York?”

“Any day you can get the appointment. The sooner the better.”

“All right.” He looked at his watch. “I must get that 5:40 back to New York.”

“Oh, you’ll stay to dinner, and spend the night?”

“No, thanks. I must get back.”

“But the Professor will never forgive me.”

“You must make a good case for me. I really must go.”

She rose to give him her hand.

“It was so good of you to come with this wonderful news, that ‘thank you’ is inadequate.”

“I thought we had agreed not to say ‘thank you’ to each other.”

“You never have any occasion to say it to me,” she smiled ruefully.