Her thoughts drifted into reverie dully coloured with misgivings. She thought of Charlie Quard as a bird of ill-omen whose appearance could presage nothing but suffering and disaster; ignoring altogether the truth, that through his good offices alone, however tainted with self-interest, she had been suffered to enter into the profession whose ranks she had elected to adorn; with that other truth, that she owed him for the clothing she wore, the food she ate, the very roof that sheltered her--and meant never to repay.... The voice of the second office-boy chanted her name twice before she heard it. "Miss Thursd'y?... Miss Joan Thursd'y?" Joan started to her feet. "Yes--?" "Th' party you ast for says please t' step this way!" XXXII Between gratification and misgivings, Joan followed her guide in a flutter of emotion. When intending nothing more than to provide an excuse for using the anteroom as a temporary refuge, she hadn't for an instant questioned her right to use Marbridge's name. But now that it appeared she was to gain thereby the boon of an audience with Arlington, she was torn by doubts. After all, her acquaintance with Marbridge had been one of the most tenuous description. True, the man had seemed attracted by her at the time; but that was many months ago; and only recently he had looked her fair in the face without knowing her. She had really gained her advantage through false pretences. And when Marbridge learned of this, would he not resent it? Had she not, through her presumption, put herself in the way of defeating her own ends? She brought up before a closed door in a state of nervousness not natural with her. "You're to wait a minute," her guide advised. She was thankful he wasn't the guardian of the outer defences: just at present she was in no fit mood to bandy persiflage successfully. But she was uncomfortably conscious that this present boy eyed her curiously as he threw open the office door. She entered, and he closed it after her. The room was untenanted, but a haze of cigar smoke in the air indicated that it had been only recently vacated. It was handsomely furnished, carpeted and decorated. The broad, flat-topped desk in one corner boasted an elaborate display of ornate desk hardware. In the middle of the blotting-pad a sheaf of letters lay beneath a bronze paperweight of unique design. All in all, an office owning little in common with the generality of those to which Joan had theretofore penetrated.... She sat herself down uneasily. A door communicating with the adjoining office, though a solid door of oak, was an inch or so ajar. Through it penetrated sounds of masculine voices in conversation--but nothing distinguishable. Five minutes passed. Then the conference in the next room broke up amid laughter; the doorknob rattled; and Joan rose automatically. Marbridge entered.