as straight at me as I at her, and I noticed that she paled a little and
shrank--yet continued to look, as if I were compelling her. But her voice,
beautifully clear, and lingering in the ears like the resonance of the
violin after the bow has swept its strings and lifted, was perfectly
self-possessed, as she said to her brother: "That will be delightful--if
you think we have time."

I saw that she, uncertain whether he wished to accept, was giving him a
chance to take either course. "He has time--nothing but time," said I. "His
engagements are always with people who want to get something out of him.
And they can wait." I pretended to think he was expecting me to enter
the trap; I got in, seated myself beside her, said to Sam: "I've saved
the little seat for you. Tell your man to take us to the Equitable
Building--Nassau Street entrance."

I talked a good deal during the first half of the nearly two hours we were
together--partly because both Sam and his sister seemed under some sort of
strain, chiefly because I was determined to make a good impression. I told
her about myself, my horses, my house in the country, my yacht. I tried to
show her I wasn't an ignoramus as to books and art, even if I hadn't been
to college. She listened, while Sam sat embarrassed. "You must bring your
sister down to visit me," I said finally. "I'll see that you both have
the time of your lives. Make up a party of your friends, Sam, and come
down--when shall we say? Next Sunday? You know you were coming anyhow. I
can change the rest of the party."

Sam grew as red as if he were going into apoplexy. I thought then he was
afraid I'd blurt out something about who were in the party I was proposing
to change. I was soon to know better.