"Tomorrow," he said, and released her.
She nodded, then was off and back into the night, back to her
home.
Running through the chilly night she remembered the gloves in her
pocket. She stopped and removed her silk gloves and put on the
pair he had given her. They made her feel secure and warm, but
not all the way. Perhaps they would feel right once she had the
left one tailored to accommodate her shortcoming.
Whatever it takes, she solemnly vowed, whatever it takes.
Chapter 10
"Mr. Harrell, Mr. Locke has arrived."
"Send him in, please," came William Harrell's voice thinly from
the intercom on his secretary's desk.
Matthew was surrounded by the kind of opulence afforded only by
companies at the highest reaches of the Fortune 500. Plush
carpets, deep, rich wooden desks, fine art originals, and people
referring to one another as Mr., Ms., Mrs., and "sir." It was a
sobering contrast to Wallaby's compact, Herman-Miller modular
partition offices, open-air buildings, and first-name protocols.
Had it been only three years since Matthew had occupied an office
at International Foods very much like this one, so expansive it
was more like a penthouse apartment than an office? Matthew's own
office at Wallaby was no larger than the standard manager's
office, just big enough to move around comfortably in.
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