man took me for a little eavesdropper, I suppose. His attitudes were rather grotesque, of the sort that would pass in a person of his eminence. He stuck his eye-glasses on the end of his nose, looked at me short-sightedly, took them off and looked again. He had the air of looking down from an immense height—of needing a telescope.
"Oh, ah . . . Mrs. Granger's son, I presume. . . . I wasn't aware . . ." The hesitation of his manner made me feel as if we never should get anywhere—not for years and years.
"No," I said, rather brusquely, "I'm only from the Hour."
He thought me one of Fox's messengers then, said that Fox might have written: "Have saved you the trouble, I mean . . . or . . ."
He had the air of wishing to be amiable, of wishing, even, to please me by proving that he was aware of my identity.
"Oh," I said, a little loftily, "I haven't any message, I've only come to interview you." An expression of dismay sharpened the lines of his face.
"To . . ." he began, "but I've never al-
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