Part 10 (1/2)
”A journalist. I'm on the Hour. This isn't my work as a rule; but the man who should have come is ill, and his junior can't sketch, so they sent me! Don't look as though I were a ghost, please. Haven't you ever heard of a girl journalist before?”
”Never,” he answered emphatically. ”I didn't know that ladies did such things!”
She laughed gaily but softly; and Trent understood then what was meant by the music of a woman's voice.
”Oh, it's not at all an uncommon thing,” she answered him. ”You won't mind my interviewing you, will you?”
”Doing what?” he asked blankly.
”Interviewing you! That's what I've come for, you know; and we want a little sketch of your house for the paper. I know you don't like it. I hear you've been awfully rude to poor little Morrison of the Post; but I'll be very careful what I say, and very quick.”
He stood looking at her, a dazed and bewildered man. From the trim little hat, with its white band and jaunty bunch of cornflowers, to the well-shaped patent shoes, she was neatly and daintily dressed. A journalist! He gazed once more into her face, at the brown eyes watching him now a little anxiously, the mouth with the humorous twitch at the corner of her lips. The little wisps of hair flashed again in the sunlight. It was she! He had found her.
She took his silence for hesitation, and continued a little anxiously.
”I really won't ask you many questions, and it would do me quite a lot of good to get an interview with you. Of course I oughtn't to have begun this sketch without permission. If you mind that, I'll give it up.”
He found his tongue awkwardly, but vigorously.
”You can sketch just as long as ever you please, and make what use of it you like,” he said. ”It's only a bit of a place though!”
”How nice of you! And the interview?”
”I'll tell you whatever you want to know,” he said quietly.
She could scarcely believe in her good fortune, especially when she remembered the description of the man which one of the staff had given.
He was gruff, vulgar, ill-tempered; the chief ought to be kicked for letting her go near him! This was what she had been told. She laughed softly to herself.
”It is very good indeed of you, Mr. Trent,” she said earnestly. ”I was quite nervous about coming, for I had no idea that you would be so kind.
Shall I finish my sketch first, and then perhaps you will be able to spare me a few minutes for the interview?”
”Just as you like,” he answered. ”May I look at it?”
”Certainly,” she answered, holding out the block; ”but it isn't half finished yet.”
”Will it take long?”
”About an hour, I think.”
”You are very clever,” he said, with a little sigh.
She laughed outright.
”People are calling you the cleverest man in London to-day,” she said.
”Pshaw! It isn't the cleverness that counts for anything that makes money.”
Then he set his teeth hard together and swore vigorously but silently.