Which so completely astonished her that she found herself going down in the private lift with him before she realised that she was going at all.
The luncheon proved to be very simple but very good. There were a number of other women in the ladies' annex of the Department Club,--nice looking people, quiet, and well dressed. Mr. Wahlbaum also was very quiet, very considerate, very attentive, and almost gravely courteous. Their conversation concerned business. He offered Athalie no cocktail and no wine, but a jug of chilled cider was set at her elbow and she found it delicious. Mr. Wahlbaum drank tea, very weak.
When they returned to the office, Athalie began to transcribe her stenographic notes. It occupied most of the afternoon although she was wonderfully rapid and accurate and her slim white fingers hovered mistily over the keys like the vibrating wings of a snowy moth.
[Illustration: "Mr. Wahlbaum ... was very quiet, very considerate, very attentive."]
Mr. Wahlbaum, always smoking, watched her toward the finish in placid silence. And for a few moments, also, after she had finished and had turned to him with a light smile and a lighter sigh of relief.
"Miss Greensleeve," he said quietly, "I have now been here in the same office with you, day after day--excepting our summer vacations--for more than five years."
A trifle surprised and sobered by his gravity and deliberation she nodded silent acquiescence and waited, wondering a little what else was to come.
It came without preamble: "I have the honour," he said, "to ask you to marry me."
Still as a stone she sat, gazing at him. And for a long while his keen eyes sustained her gaze. But presently a slow, deep colour began to gather on his face. And after a moment he said: "I am sorry that the verdict is against me."
Tears filled her eyes; she tried to speak, could not, turned on her pivot-chair, rested her arms on the back, and dropped her face in them.
It was a long while before she was able to efface the traces of emotion. She did all she could before she forced herself to look at him again and say what she must say.
"If I could--I would, Mr. Wahlbaum," she faltered. "No man has ever been kinder to me, none more courteous, none more gentle."