"If you knew what it felt like," he whispered, as he held open the door
for her, "to have something to wait for! And whether you realise it or
not, you are with me--from now on--always--my inspiration--my daily
happiness."
CHAPTER XIII
Peter Phipps, sitting in his private office, might have served as the
very prototype of a genial, shrewd and successful business man. The
apartment was plainly and handsomely furnished. Although, only a few
yards away, was a private exchange and an operator who controlled many
private wires, a single telephone only stood upon his desk. The documents
which cumbered it were arranged in methodical little heaps. His manager
stood by his side, with a long slip of paper in his hand. The two men had
been studying it together.
"A very excellently prepared document, Harrison," his employer declared
graciously, as he leaned back in his chair with the tips of his fingers
pressed together. "Capitally prepared and very lucid. A good many million
bushels, that. We are creeping up, Harrison--creeping up."
Mr. Harrison bowed in recognition of his master's words of
commendation. He was a worn-looking, negative person, with a waxlike
complexion, a furtive manner, and a marvellous head for the figures
with which he juggled.
"The totals are enormous, sir," he admitted, "and you may take it that
they are absolutely correct.
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