And he thought, as he dropped into the chair she indicated,
that she was a woman who gained strength in these moments of relaxation.
"Fancy your catching me like this!" she said, "I thought when the bell
rang that you were my dressmaker.... If you want a highball you'll have
to wait on yourself. Phil Edington brought an awfully good bottle of
Scotch last night. I declare I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have
a youngster or two on my staff. Old men are such bores, anyway, and, as
a matter of fact, they never waste time on any woman over thirty. Well,
I don't blame them. We're a sorry, patched-up mess at best.... Tell me,
did you get hold of Miss Robson?"
"I dropped in, but she wasn't at the office," Stillman replied, tossing
his hat on the center-table.
Mrs. Condor withdrew to the relaxation of her innumerable sofa pillows
again. "Wasn't at the office? How thrilling! Is she one of the Sultan's
favorites?... I've heard Sawyer Flint was an easy mark if you know how
to work him. Miss Robson didn't strike me that way, though. But I ought
to have known that silent women are always cleverer than they appear."
Stillman caught the barest suggestion of a sneer in Mrs. Condor's
tone--the sneer of a woman relinquishing a stubborn hold upon the
gaieties.
"Well, I guess Miss Robson didn't know how to work him, as a matter of
fact," Stillman said, quietly.
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