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She walked out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk, uncertainly. Coming to New York had been a mistake. There was probably nothing Conrad Morgan could do for her. And why should he? She was a complete stranger to him. He'll give me a lecture and a handout. Well, I don't need either. Not from him or anyone else. I'm a survivor. Somehow I'm going to make it. To hell with Conrad Morgan. I won't go back to see him.
Tracy wandered the streets aimlessly, passing the glittering salons of Fifth Avenue,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the guarded apartment buildings on Park Avenue, the bustling shops on Lexington and Third. She walked the streets of New York mindlessly, seeing nothing,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], filled with a bitter frustration.
At 6:00 she found herself back on Fifth Avenue, in front of Conrad Morgan et Cie Jewelers. The doorman was gone,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and the door was locked. Tracy pounded on the door in a gesture of defiance and then turned away, but to her surprise, the door suddenly opened.
An avuncular-looking man stood there looking at her. He was bald, with ragged tufts of gray hair above his ears, and he had a jolly, rubicund face and twinkling blue eyes. He looked like a cheery little gnome. "You must be Miss Whitney?"
"Yes...."
"I'm Conrad Morgan. Please,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], do come in, won't you?"
Tracy entered the deserted store.
"I've been waiting for you,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," Conrad Morgan said. "Let's go into my office where we can talk."