"
Enoch nodded. The carriage stopped before the Willard Hotel. "Miss
Allen, will you lunch with me?" he asked.
Diana hesitated. "I'll be late getting back to the office," she said.
"I'll ask Watkins not to dock you," said Enoch soberly.
"Docking my salary," touching Enoch's proffered hand lightly as she
sprang to the curb, "would be almost like taking something from
nothing. I've never lunched in the Willard, Mr. Secretary."
"The Johnstown lunch still holds sway, I suppose!" said Enoch,
following Diana down the stairs to Peacock Row.
They were a rather remarkable pair together. At least the occupants of
the Row evidently felt so, for there was a breathless craning of necks
and a hush in conversations as they passed, Diana, with her
heart-searching beauty, Enoch with his great height and his splendid,
rugged head. The head waiter did not actually embrace Enoch in
welcoming him, but he managed to convey to the dining-room that here
was a personal and private god of his own on whom the public had the
privilege of gazing only through his generosity. Finally he had them
seated to his satisfaction in the quietest and most conspicuous corner
of the room.
"Now, my dear Mr. Secretary, what may we give you?" he asked, rubbing
his hands together.
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