"He expected to be asked to lunch." "I am glad he wasn't," Tallente observed.
She laughed.
"Why not?
He is quite a nice young man." "No doubt," Tallente agreed, without conviction.

"However, I hate young men and I want to talk to you." "Young men are tiresome sometimes," she agreed, rising from her chair.
"And older ones too, I am afraid!" She closed her desk and he stood watching her.

She was wearing an extraordinarily masculine garb--a covert-coating riding costume, with breeches and riding boots concealed under a long coat--but she contrived, somehow, to remain altogether feminine.

She stood for a moment looking about her, as though wondering whether there were anything else to be done, a capable figure, attractive because of her earnest self-possession.
"Sarah," she called out.
The sound of a typewriter in an inner room ceased.

The door was opened and a girl appeared on the threshold.
"You won't see me again to-day unless you send up for me," her mistress announced.