Bad for Business

“Really,” said Cliff. “Really—”

“Yep, really. By the way, I’ve just told her why you were tailing her Tuesday evening, and she didn’t laugh. Far from it.”

“Well, that... that is no longer of any...” It ran off into nothing, because his eyes had had their way and were meeting Amy’s.

“Hop in,” Fox invited him. “We’re going to stop in at Grove Street for Miss Duncan’s umbrella. She’s going to give it to me to add to my collection of souvenirs. Go around to the other side and squeeze in with us. Then we’re going to Rusterman’s for lunch.”

“I... I’ll get in the back.”

“There’s plenty of room,” said Amy, who up to that point had taken no part in the conversation.

Cliff hesitated, looked like a man who feared he was looking like a fool, and then moved. He went around the front of the car and was at the other door, which Amy had swung open. She moved over against Fox, but even so it was fairly close quarters. When Cliff got the door closed he was touching her all along the frontier. There was no help for it.

The car rolled east. As it turned into Eighth Avenue Cliff said, “Of course you didn’t invite me for lunch, but it would be very — I mean if you would both accept an invitation from me — at Rusterman’s if you like it there—”

“Nothing doing,” Fox said firmly. “You’ve been neglecting your business all week and you’d better start catching up. Besides, Miss Duncan and I met romantically and we’re going to part romantically. I’ll drop you off wherever you say. Your office?”

So Mr. Cliff worked that afternoon — at least, he was at his desk. The evening was another matter.