He kissed her again, right out on the train platform, with belated passengers elbowing by and porters looking on. It was Hy's little sacrament of freedom. He could kiss them now--in public--as he chose! For he was fired. No more gloomy old office! No more of the gliding Miss Hardwick! No more of the doctor's oratory! No more of that damn buzzer!
The thing to do, of course, was to go back and pack up his belongings; but he couldn't bring himself to it. So he stayed out until lunch time, filling in the odd hour with an eleven o'clock movie show. He lunched expensively and alone at the club, off a porterhouse steak with mushrooms, potatoes “au gratin,” creamed spinach, musty ale in pewter, romaine salad, Camembert cheese with toasted biscuit and black coffee.
When he reentered his office, who should be sitting there but the Worm. Before he could overcome a slight embarrassment and begin the necessary process of telling his story, a heavy crushing step sounded in the corridor, passed the door, went on into the big room in the corner.
“I've got to see him. Will you take me in?”
“Oh, sit down! I can tell you more than he can.”
Hy emerged from his self-absorption at this point sufficiently to observe that the Worm, usually smiling and calm, was laboring under some excitement.
“All right,” said he, “come along!” And quite light of heart, afraid of nothing now, he led the Worm in and introduced him as, “My friend, Mr. Bates of _The 'Courier_.” Then, hearing his telephone ringing again, he hurried back to his own office.
It would be Betty, of course. Well, as far as the office was concerned, it didn't matter now. She could call! Anybody could call.... He picked up the receiver.
“Oh,” he murmured--“hello, Silvia! Wait a moment.” He got up and closed the door. “All right,” he said then. “What is it, little girl?”
“Oh!” said she, “thank God, I've found you! Hy, something dreadful has almost happened. It has done such things to my pride! But I knew you wouldn't want me to turn to any one else for help, would you?”
“Oh, no,” said he, with sudden queer misgivings, “of course not! Not for a minute!”
“I knew you'd feel that way, dear. Are you dreadfully busy? Could you--I know it's a lot to ask--but could you, for me, dear, run out for five minutes?”