"As soon as we clean up this job in hand, we'll move on to one big thing after another!" And then out came the question Maggie had been bracing herself for: "How about Dick Sherwood?
Did he finally come across with that proposal ?" "No," Maggie answered steadily.
"No?
Why not ?" exclaimed Barney sharply.

"I thought that was all that was holding him back--waiting for his sister to look you over and give you her O.K. ?" Maggie had decided that her air of cool, indifferent certainty was the best manner to use in this situation with Barney.

So she shrugged her white shoulders.
"How can I tell what makes a man do something, and what makes him not do it ?" "But did he seem any less interested in you than before ?" Barney pursued.
"No," replied Maggie.
"Then maybe he's just waiting to get up his nerve.

He'll ask you, all right; nothing there for us to worry about.

Come on, let's have dinner.
I'm starved." On the roof of the Grantham they were excellently served; for Barney knew how to order a dinner, and he knew the art, which is an alchemistic mixture of suave diplomacy and the insinuated power and purpose of murder, of handling head-waiters and their sub-autocrats.