She stands very still, having a
natural dignity of pose and gesture.
SWEEDLE goes out into the partners' room with the pass-book.
COKESON. [Looking round at RUTH] The young man's out.
[Suspiciously] State your business, please.
RUTH. [Who speaks in a matter-of-fact voice, and with a slight
West-Country accent] It's a personal matter, sir.
COKESON. We don't allow private callers here. Will you leave a
message?
RUTH. I'd rather see him, please.
She narrows her dark eyes and gives him a honeyed look.
COKESON. [Expanding] It's all against the rules. Suppose I had my
friends here to see me! It'd never do!
RUTH. No, sir.
COKESON. [A little taken aback] Exactly! And here you are wanting
to see a junior clerk!
RUTH. Yes, sir; I must see him.
COKESON. [Turning full round to her with a sort of outraged
interest] But this is a lawyer's office. Go to his private address.
RUTH. He's not there.
COKESON. [Uneasy] Are you related to the party?
RUTH. No, sir.
COKESON. [In real embarrassment] I don't know what to say. It's no
affair of the office.
RUTH. But what am I to do?
COKESON. Dear me! I can't tell you that.
SWEEDLE comes back. He crosses to the outer office and passes
through into it, with a quizzical look at Cokeson, carefully
leaving the door an inch or two open.
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