herself and was again thickly veiled with the expression which made
everyone think her insignificant. "Nothing I could afford to do," said
she. It was plain that she did not wish to be questioned further along
that line.

"The stage?" he persisted.

"I hadn't thought of it," was her answer.

"What then?"

"I don't think about things I can't have. I never made any definite
plans."

"But isn't it a good idea always to look ahead? As long as one has to be
moving, one might as well move in a definite direction."

She was waiting with pencil poised.

"There isn't much of a future at this business."

She shrank slightly. He felt that she regarded his remark as preparation
for a kindly hint that she was not giving satisfaction. . . . Well, why not
leave it that way? Perhaps she would quit of her own accord--would spare
him the trouble--and embarrassment--of arranging with Tetlow for another
place for her. He began to dictate--gave her a few sentences mockingly
different from his usual terse and clear statements--interrupted himself
with:

"You misunderstood me a while ago. I didn't mean you weren't doing your