"For a moment or two, he didn't either. Then he said he would like to
see you. That was an hour ago. I have just come from his office."
"But what in the world does he want of me? Everything is over now, isn't
it? Or are there more doors? Really, if there are, I don't think I can
stand it. I don't think I can, Mr. Jones."
"Yes, but there are doors that don't slam, doors that are closed and
locked and barred. Sometimes there is romance behind them, sometimes
there are santal-wood boxes crammed with rubies; sometimes there are
secrets, sometimes there are landscapes of beckoning palms. One never
quite knows what there is behind closed doors. He may open one or two
for you. Wouldn't it interest you to let him try?"
Cassy's eyelids had been a trifle tremulous, in her under-lip there had
been also a little uncertainty. But at the vistas which the novelist
dangled at her, she succeeded in looking, as she could look,
immeasurably remote.
"That sort of thing is chorus-girl!"