Carson of Red River by Harold Bindloss — Read

At ten o'clock in the morning, Kit went quietly into the manager's office. Perhaps it was strange, for until he talked to Mrs. Blake he had not faced a crisis, but he was calm. His rather boyish carelessness had vanished; his glance was steady and his step firm.

The chair Colvin gave him faced the window. Kit had expected something like that, and had thought to be embarrassed, but he was not. Meredith, the director who had talked to him about Jasper Carson, Colvin and Robbins, the head draftsman, occupied chairs at the table. Kit waited.