“Does he live here?” he asked her presently. “Excuse me?” Mike threw Michelle a strange look, bursting into a grin. “Did you see who that was?” he asked in a low tone. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Cathy Beck was outraged. I'll wait here.
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