didn't know he was aware of my existence."
"Apparently he wasn't--but he is now. He desires you--I give you the verb as Spellman, the secretary, passed it on to me--he desires you to be in the breakfast loggia here at three this afternoon."
I could barely squeak the words out:
"Does he mean that he's coming to see me?"
"That, it seems, isn't necessary for you to know. Your business is to be there. There's quite a subtle point in the limitation. Being there, you'll see what will happen next. It isn't good for you to be told too much at a time."
My spirit began to revive.
"I'm not his servant. I'm Mrs. Rossiter's. If he wants anything of me why doesn't he say so through her?"
"'Sh, 'sh, Miss Adare! You mustn't dictate to God, or say he should act in this way or in that."
"But he's not God."
"Oh, as to that--well, you'll see." He added, with his light laugh, "What will you bet that I don't know what it's all about?"
"Oh, I bet you do."