"
They heard a ring at the front door.
"There he is now, I think," she said. "Will you see him? Would you mind?"
"See him? No!" her father cried.
"But just to shake hands," she insisted. "You needn't talk or say a word.
We've only a moment, anyway." And she went swiftly out of the room.
Roger rose in a panic and strode up and down. Before he could recover
himself she was back with her man, or rather her boy--for the fellow, to
her father's eyes, looked ridiculously young. Straight as an arrow,
slender, his dress suit irreproachable, the chap nevertheless was more than
a dandy. He looked hard, as though he trained, and his smooth and ruddy
face had a look of shrewd self-reliance. So much of him Roger fathomed in
the indignant cornered glance with which he welcomed him into the room.
"Why, good evening, Mr. Gale--glad to see you again, sir!" Young Sloane
nervously held out his hand. Roger took it and muttered something. For
several moments, his mind in a whirl, he heard their talk and laughter and
his own voice joining in. Laura seemed enjoying herself, her eyes brimming
with amusement over both her victims. But at last she had compassion,
kissed her father gaily and took her suitor out of the room.
Soon Roger heard them leave the house. He went into his study, savagely bit
off a cigar and gripped his evening paper as though he meant to choke it.
The maid came in with coffee.
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