CHAPTER 15“I don’t know whether you expected me this morning or not, Dr. Smith. Miss Olive says it was firmly understood that I wanted a job and you’d given me one. I’ll be glad to go home in case she’s wrong.”
It was the second time Jonas Smith had opened the front door to find Elizabeth Darrell on his steps. If he had been staggered the first time, when she came for a sleeping tablet for her younger sister, he was, this time, five minutes to nine o’clock Monday morning, more than staggered. He was reduced to a lump of inarticulate red-faced clay. She stood there cool and poised, her gold hair drawn in an efficient-looking bun at the back of her head, her crisp grey-and-white striped cotton dress precisely what the well-dressed office assistant should wear. The only thing that was missin
