"Was it you askin' for Mr. Mason?" says I, beginnin' to suspect that
Vincent had made a mistake, after all.
"Yes indeed, suh," says she, sort of soft and slurry. "Ahm th' one.
You jess tell him Valentina Tozier's out hea-uh. He'll know."
"Oh, will he?" says I, a bit sarcastic. "Sorry, Valentina, but I
couldn't think of disturbin' Mr. Mason now. Maybe you don't know it,
but he's a mighty busy man."
"Well, there!" says she. "Think of that!"
Then I knew why it was Vincent had taken a chance on crashin' into a
directors' meetin'. He'd been hypnotized by Miss Tozier's smile. It
ain't any common open-faced movement, believe me. It's about the
friendliest, most natural heart-to-heart smile I ever got in range of.
And, somehow, it seems to come mostly from the eyes; a chummy,
confidential, trustin' smile that sparkles with good faith and good
nature, and kind of thrills you with the feelin' that you must be a lot
better'n you ever suspected. Honest, after one application I forgets
the queer rig she has on, the mud-colored hair, and the way her chest
slumps in. Whoever she might be and whatever she might want, I'm
strong for givin' her the helpin' hand. If I could have gone in and
led old K. W. out by the arm, I'd have done it.
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