Part 8 (1/2)

He managed to keep up at least the appearance of being closely engaged, turning the leaves of books, making notes, arising to consult other books upon the shelves. But he could not resist frequent furtive glances at the profile outlined against the window. It was a distracting outline, it must be freely admitted. Even upon the hill, seen against the blue-and-purple haze, it had hardly been more so. What indeed could a young man do but steal a look at it as often as he might? There was no knowing when he should have such another chance.

Things proceeded in this course without interruption until eleven o'clock. The Judge, finding it possible to get ahead so satisfactorily by this new method, decided to send on considerably more material to be pa.s.sed upon by his critical coadjutor at the Capitol than he had originally intended to do at this time. But as the clock struck the hour a caller's card was sent in to him, and with a word to Roberta he left the room to see his visitor elsewhere.

Roberta finished her paragraph, then sat studying the next one. She did not look up, nor did Richard. The moments pa.s.sed and the Judge did not return. Roberta rose and threw open the window beside her, letting in a great sweep of December air.

Richard seized his opportunity. ”Good for you!” he applauded. ”Shall I open mine?”

”Please. It will warm up again very quickly. It began to seem stifling.”

”Not much like the place where you want to build a cabin and stay alone in a storm. Or--not alone. You are willing to have a dog with you. What sort of a dog?”

”A Great Dane, I think. I have a friend who owns one. They are inseparable.”

By the worst of luck the Judge chose this moment to return, and the windows went down with a rush.

The Judge s.h.i.+vered, smiling at the pair. ”You young things, all warmth and vitality! You are never so happy as when the wind is lifting your hair. Now I think I'm pretty vigorous for my years, but I wouldn't sit and talk in a room with two open windows, in December.”

”Neither can we--hang it!” thought Richard. ”Why couldn't that chap have stayed a few minutes longer--when we'd just got started?”

At luncheon-time Roberta's part in the work was not completed. Her uncle asked for two hours more of her time and she cheerfully promised it. So at two o'clock the stage was again set as a business office, the actors again engaged in their parts. But at three the situation was abruptly changed.

”I believe there are no more revisions to be made,” declared Judge Gray with a sigh of weariness. ”I have taxed you heavily, my dear, but if you are equal to finis.h.i.+ng these eleven sheets for me by yourself I shall be grateful. My eyes have reached the limit of endurance, even with all the help you have given me. I must go to my room.”

He paused by Richard's desk on his way out. ”Have you finished the abstract of the chapter on Judge Cahill?” he asked. ”No? I thought you would perhaps have covered that this morning. But--I do not mean to exact too much. It will be quite satisfactory if you can complete it this afternoon.”

”I am sorry,” said his a.s.sistant, flus.h.i.+ng in a quite unaccustomed manner. ”I have been working more slowly than I realized. I will finish it as rapidly as I can, sir.”

”Don't apologize, Mr. Kendrick. We all have our slow days. I undoubtedly underestimated the amount of time the chapter would require. Good afternoon to you.”

Richard sat down and plunged into the task he now saw he had merely played with during the morning. By a tremendous effort he kept his eyes from lifting to the figure at the typewriter, whose steady clicking never ceased but for a moment at a time, putting him to shame. Yet try as he would he could not apply himself with any real concentration; and the task called for concentration, all he could command.

”You are probably not used to working in the same room with a typewriter,” said his companion, quite unexpectedly, after a full half hour of silence. She had stopped work to oil a bearing in her machine.

There was an odd note in her voice; it sounded to Richard as if she meant: ”You are not used to doing anything worth while.”

”I don't mind it in the least,” he protested.

”I'm sorry not to take my work to another room,” Roberta went on, tipping up her machine and manipulating levers with skill as she applied the oil. ”But I shall soon be through.”

”Please don't hurry. I ought to be able to work under any conditions.

And I certainly enjoy having you at work in the same room,” he ventured to add. It was odd how he found himself merely venturing to say to this girl things which he would have said without hesitation--putting them much more strongly withal--to any other girl he knew.

”One needs to be able to forget there's anybody in the same room.” There was a little curl of scorn about her lips.

”That might be easier to do under some conditions than others.” He did not mean to be trampled upon.

But Roberta finished her oiling in silence and again applied herself to her typing with redoubled energy.

He went at his abstract, suddenly furious with himself. He would show her that he could work as persistently as she. He could not pretend to himself that she was not absorbed. Only entire absorption could enable her to reel off those pages without more than an infrequent stop for the correction of an error.

Turning a page in the big volume of records of speeches in the State Legislature, which he was consulting, Richard came upon a sheet of paper on which was written something in verse. His eye went to the bottom of the sheet to see there the source of the quotation--Browning--with reference to t.i.tle and page. No harm to read a quoted poem, certainly; his eyes sought it eagerly as a relief from the sonorous phrasing of the speech he was attempting to read. He had never seen the words before; the first line--and he must read to the end. What a thing to find in a dusty volume of forgotten speeches of a date long past!