He took up a paper-knife and, balancing it between his fingers, tapped lightly with it on the table. “Is your daughter likely to be married soon?” he inquired, looking up suddenly. Hartley shook his head. “N-no; I don’t think so,” he said, thickly. The senior partner resumed his tapping. “That is a pity,” he said at last, with a frown. “Of course, you understand that Vyner and Son are not anxious to dispense with your services—not at all. In certain circumstances you might remain with us another ten or fifteen years, and then go with a good retiring allowance. At your present age there would be no allowance. Do you understand me?” The chief clerk tried to summon a little courage, a little dignity. “I am afraid I don’t,” he said, in a low voice. “It is all so sudden. I—I am rather bewildered.” Mr. Vyner looked at him impatiently. “I said just now,” he continued, in a hard voice, “that Vyner and Son are not anxious to dispense with your services. That is, in a way, a figure of speech. Mr. Robert knows nothing of this, and I may tell you—as an old and trusted servant of the firm—that his share as a partner is at present but nominal, and were he to do anything seriously opposed to my wishes, such as, for instance—such as a—ha—matrimonial alliance of which I could not approve, the results for him would be disastrous. Do you understand?” In a slow, troubled fashion Hartley intimated that he did. He began to enter into explanations, and was stopped by the senior partner’s uplifted hand. “That will do,” said the latter, stiffly. “I have no doubt I know all that you could tell me. It is—ha—only out of consideration for your long and faithful service that I have—ha—permitted you a glimpse into my affairs—our affairs. I hope, now, that I have made myself quite clear.” He leaned back in his chair and, twisting the paper-knife idly between his fingers, watched his chief clerk closely. “Wouldn’t it be advisable—” began Hartley, and stopped abruptly at the expression on the other’s face. “I was thinking that if you mentioned this to Mr. Robert—” “Certainly not!” said Mr. Vyner, with great sharpness. “Certainly not!” Anger at having to explain affairs to his clerk, and the task of selecting words which should cause the least loss of dignity, almost deprived him of utterance. “This is a private matter,” he said at last, “strictly between ourselves. I am master here, and any alteration in the staff is a matter for myself alone. I do not wish—in fact, I forbid you to mention the matter to him. Unfortunately, we do not always see eye to eye. He is young, and perhaps hardly as worldly wise as I could wish.” He leaned forward to replace the paper-knife on the table, and, after blowing his nose with some emphasis, put the handkerchief back in his pocket and sat listening with a judicial air for anything that his chief clerk might wish to put before him.