Naturally the office force gave a deep sigh of satisfaction when Oakley closed his desk and announced that he was going up-town and would not return. Miss Walton confided to Kerr that she just hoped he would never come back.
It was a little before three o'clock when Dan presented himself at the Emorys'. The maid who answered his ring ushered him into the parlor with marked trepidation. She was a timid soul. Then she swished from the room, but returned almost immediately to say that Miss Emory would be down in a moment.
"I wonder what's troubling her," muttered Oakley, with some exasperation. "You'd think she expected me to take her head off." He guessed that, like her betters, she was enjoying to the limit the sensation of which he was the innocent victim.
When Constance entered the room, he advanced a little uncertainly. She extended her hand quite cordially, however. There was no trace of embarrassment or constraint in her manner.
As he took her hand, Dan said, simply, going straight to the purpose of his call: "I have thought a good deal over what I want to tell you, Miss Emory." Miss Emory instantly took the alarm, and was on the defensive. She enveloped herself in that species of inscrutable feminine reserve men find so difficult to penetrate. She could not imagine what he had to tell her that was so pressing. He was certainly very curious and unconventional. There was one thing she feared he might want to tell her which she was firmly determined not to hear.
"Thank you, yes." It was all so formal they both smiled.
Dan stood with his back to the fire-place, now filled with ferns, and rested an elbow on the mantel. There was an awkward pause. At last he said, slowly:
"It seems I've been the subject of a lot of talk during the last two days, and I have been saddled with a matter for which I am in no way responsible, though it appears to reflect on me quite as much as if I were."
"Really, Mr. Oakley"--began Constance, scenting danger ahead. But her visitor was in no mood to temporize.
"One moment, please," he said, hastily. "You have heard the story from Mr. Ryder."
"No, I won't say that," defiantly. She was not accustomed to being catechised.
"At least it has caused you to seriously doubt the wisdom of an acquaintance," blurted Oakley. "You are very unfair," rising with latent anger.