favouring the playwright with a companionable wink, he said affably, "See you later," and went away.
Olivia turned to go with him; but, as if it were distasteful to her to walk with him even so far as the elevator, she swung about toward the opposite door, hesitated, and after a moment, came back to Ogle. He had risen upon her advent and was still standing, staring pallidly after Tinker.
"I don't think you understood what I said to you this afternoon, Mr. Ogle."
"What?" he said blankly; then amended his manners. "I beg your pardon. Will you have some tea?"
"No, thank you. I tried to tell you something when we met you in the Arab quarter this afternoon, but I don't think you understood. You were looking at my father. I don't think you paid any attention to what I was trying to say, you were so busy despising him."
"I beg your pardon!" he said again. "I think you are mistaken."
"Do you?" She uttered a short and rueful laugh. "We won't argue it; I understand perfectly. I'm not very decent to him myself, and of course you
