Lee Randon thought with amused pity of the files
of men who must have passed by her, with the most considerate bows, in
ignorance of the inner truth.
That discovery, while, naturally, it had not been entirely reserved
for him, had accumulated in a supreme delight, been kept back, like the
best of all presents, for the last. He was glad that it wasn't too late
for him to enjoy it. Here, suddenly, intervening in the midst of a
prosaic drudgery, a tepid and meaningless period, was a magnificent
relief. By God, would he take advantage of it! Would he! There was a
knock at the door, and the hotel valet hung a freshly pressed suit in
the closet; the shoes into which he intended to change were in a
perfection of readiness; laid out were a heavy blue silk shirt and a
dull yellow tie. Lee got these various carefully selected articles of
dress slowly, exactly, on. His pearl pin Fanny had given him! Well, it
was a good pearl, selected personally by a celebrated dealer; and Lee
was obliged to her, nothing more. He lighted a cigarette, collected his
hat and gloves, his overcoat and stick, and descended in the elevator
in a mood of unrestrained enjoyment.
The door attendant, who knew him, whistled for a taxi-cab, commenting
lightly on the visible accident to his jaw. But, in spite of it, Lee
had an appearance, as he phrased it, of good luck. The world, he said,
was evidently in favor of Mr.
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