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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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], passing the glittering salons of Fifth Avenue, the guarded apartment buildings on Park Avenue, the bustling shops on Lexington and Third. She walked the streets of New York mindlessly, seeing nothing, 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, and the door was locked. Tracy pounded on the door in a gesture of defiance and then turned away, but to her surprise,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and he had a jolly,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], rubicund face and twinkling blue eyes. He looked like a cheery little gnome. "You must be Miss Whitney?"
"Yes...."
"I'm Conrad Morgan. Please, do come in, won't you?"
Tracy entered the deserted store.
"I've been waiting for you," Conrad Morgan said. "Let's go into my office where we can talk."