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CHAPTER XXIII - LAID UP.
Harriet Holden was sitting in Elizabeth's boudoir. "And he had the effrontery,"
the latter was saying, "to tell me what I must do and must not do! The idea! A
miserable little milk-wagon driver dictating to me!"
Miss Holden smiled.
"I should not call him very little," she remarked.
"I didn't mean physically," retorted Elizabeth. "It is absolutely insufferable. I am
going to demand that father discharge the man."
"
And suppose he asks you why?" asked Harriet. "You will tell him, of course, that
you want this person discharged because he protected you from the insults and
attacks of a ruffian while you were dining in Feinheimer's at night--is that it?"
"You are utterly impossible, Harriet!" cried Elizabeth, stamping her foot. "You are
as bad as that efficiency person. But, then, I might have expected it! You have
always, it seems to me, shown a great deal more interest in the fellow than
necessary, and probably the fact that Harold doesn't like him is enough to make
you partial toward him, for you have never tried to hide the fact that you don't
like Harold."
"
If you're going to be cross," said Harriet, "I think I shall go home."
At about the same time the Lizard entered Feinheimer's. In the far corner of the
room Murray was seated at a table. The Lizard approached and sat down opposite
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