“Oh, come, what melodrama! I can’t believe he’s the least likely to do anything of the sort.” “I can easily.” “Well, and if he did, what would, what could you do?” “Do?” repeated Philip, in a tone of sudden ferocity. “What wouldn’t I do?” “You’re tired and you’re talking wildly,” said Evelyn quietly, “and you know it. It wouldn’t matter much, would it, if he did; there are heaps of better openings for you.” “Wouldn’t it?” asked Philip scornfully. “You wouldn’t care, I suppose, not a bit?” “Don’t be absurd; I should care very much if he sacked you, as you call it. But you might anticipate him, if you really dislike working under him so—if it becomes unbearable, I mean; and that would be quite different.” “I sometimes believe you haven’t a heart at all,” he retorted. “How would it be different? I should have to go away from here just the same.” “Are you so fond of the place?” she asked. “The place! Good Lord, no!” He was taken aback by her literalness. “Well then,” she continued, “I really can’t see what you mean.” “Can’t you? People can be very dense sometimes. This place means you, and I’ll put up with a lot more than I have done yet just to be with you.” “You’re very nice, Philip,” she answered with a change of tone, “only you don’t mean half the flattering things you say. Why, I’m only here sometimes; this place isn’t my home.” “It seems to be,” he replied. “I mean—well, I don’t mean that as it sounds. And, anyway, that’s not the point; it’s the only place in which I ever see you or am ever likely to see you, and before I let that old beast drive me from it, I’ll, I’ll——” “Don’t. You mustn’t talk of him like that. He’s not as kind as he might be, I know—I know it a great deal better than you do, Philip, for all your work with him”—there was a note of real sadness in her voice—“but after all he’s my host, and you’re his secretary, and we mustn’t sit and abuse him here. Let’s talk of something else.” “Very well,” he assented reluctantly; “only it’s a great relief; the man who invented swearing knew very well what he was about; it has prevented a multitude of crimes—but on your head be it. What shall we talk about? The beautiful sunshine or your irresistible charm?” “You are too ridiculous for words sometimes,” she laughed. “If I thought you meant a word of what you say I should be very angry with you.” “Oh, do,” he pleaded. “I’ve seen you in many moods and I don’t know one in which you’re not more fascinating than any other girl I ever met. But I’ve never seen you angry, and it must be worth watching.” “It is,” she acknowledged—“from a distance, and I said ‘angry with you.’” “Yes, I admit the direction of the blow might make a difference; I’ve no doubt you can hit straight.”