"Precisely." I found it necessary to inhale again, even more slowly
than before. "I was on my way," I explained, "to propose to a girl whom
I dearly love. In every way but one, she is the perfect woman. Do you
understand me?"
She nodded, wide-eyed. I had stumbled on a romantic, though I was too
preoccupied to notice it at the time.
"In every way but one," I continued. "She has one small imperfection,
a fixation about punctuality. And I was supposed to meet her at ten
o'clock. _I'm late!_" I shook my fist at the screen. "Do you realize
what you've _done_, disconnecting the elevator? Not only won't she
marry me, she won't even _speak_ to me! Not now! Not after this!"
"Sir," she said tremulously, "please don't shout."
"I'm not shouting!"
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry. I understand your--"
"You _understand_?" I trembled with speechless fury.
She looked all about her, and then leaned closer to the screen,
revealing a cleavage that I was too distraught at the moment to pay
any attention to. "We're not supposed to give this information out,
sir," she said, her voice low, "but I'm going to tell you, so you'll
understand why we had to do it. I think it's perfectly awful that it
had to ruin things for you this way. But the fact of the matter is--"
she leaned even closer to the screen--"there's a spy in the elevator."