For a very long moment Mr. Ronald sat silent. So long a moment, indeed,
that Claire, waiting in growing suspense for his answer, suddenly
remembered all those things she had forgotten, and her earlier
embarrassment returned with a wave of bitter self-reproach. She accused
herself of having been too free. She had overstepped her privilege. It
was not apparent to her that he was trying to visualize the picture she
had drawn, the possibility of his _not liking her and sending her away,
you know,_ and that, to his utter consternation, he found it was
something he could not in the least conceive of himself as doing. That,
on the contrary, the vision of her going away for any reason, of her
passing out of his life, now she had once stepped into it, left him with
a chill sensation in the cardiac region that was as unexpected as it was
disturbing. When he spoke at last, it was with a quick, authoritative
brevity that seemed to Claire to bear out her apprehension, and prove he
thought she had forgotten her place, her new place as "hired help," and
must be checked lest she presume on good nature and take a tone to her
employers that was not to be tolerated.

"You will come without fail on Monday morning."

"Very well."

Her manner was so studiously cold and ceremonious, so sharply in
contrast with her former piquant friendliness, that Mr. Ronald looked up
in surprise.

"It is convenient for you to come on Monday, I hope?"

"Perfectly."