"Promise," Minot leaned over. His voice was hoarse. "You'll meet me here at four. Quite aside from my errand—quite aside from everything—I want to see you again."
"Do you really?" She continued to hum beneath her breath. "Very well—here at four."
"And—" he hesitated, fearing to break the spell. "In the meantime—"
"In the meantime," she said, "I'll think only of—four o'clock."
Minot left that pink and gold parlor at sea in several respects. The theory was that he had played with this famous actress—wound her round his finger—cajoled a delay. But somehow he didn't feel exactly as one who has mastered a delicate situation should. Instead he felt dazed by the beauty of her.
Still more was he at sea as to what he was going to do at four o'clock. Of what good was the delay if he could not make use of it? And at the moment he hadn't the slightest notion of what he could do to prepare himself for the afternoon interview. He must wait for Jephson's cable—perhaps that would give him an idea.
