"And she types at home, too--authors' manuscript--when she can get it--and I save the ten shillings I had to pay somebody to look after the boy." "And you yourself?" I ventured meaningly. "Oh," she answered evasively, "we've not stuck fast yet." "In spite of your chills," thought I; and then, as another burst of laughter broke from the girls down the room, I said aloud: "Tell me--I've never asked you--how did you drop into this kind of thing? You used to be at a business college." Again she smiled. "Did I? Sometimes I can hardly believe that was I. It's precious little I learned there, anyway. And this other--I could explain to Billy--I'm not pretty, I know, not my face, but--well, it seemed a fairly obvious thing to do. There wasn't much else, anyhow, and remember I did fairly well out of it--better than most girls in offices." She had grown faintly pink, and again the tourmalines had given, as it were, a half turn. I dropped my voice and looked earnestly at her. "And these--chills--aren't they anything you could ever grow out of?" The soft irradiation deepened as she looked as earnestly back at me. "No," she said. "I see. And what you learned at the College--have you forgotten all that?" Then, looking almost challengingly at one another, we began to speak rather quickly, and a little elliptically. "I think I can guess what you mean," she said, dropping her gaze again. "I think you do." "That's why I asked you just now when the Consolidation was starting.... You don't suppose she'll love you any more for throwing her out of a job, do you?" "She can't hate me much more than she does." "Well, you may depend upon it, she knows she's going." "Well, that saves trouble." "Oh, no, it doesn't." "Ah!--You think not?" "I'm sure not." A pause. "I gather you've seen her?" "Oh, often." "At your place?" "Yes." "I don't suppose you love her much. Why do you have her there?" "You don't love her either. Why do you?" "Well, there's Evie." "And there's Kitty." Another pause, and then: "I see." Then suddenly I spoke a little more to the point. "Well, would you accept the job if I could arrange it?" She hesitated. "It's very necessary, of course, that I should do something." "You'd take it?" "I almost think--there's my boy, you see--but we'll talk about that in a minute. You were asking me about Kitty. I don't think you need worry about her. I keep her in hand. I don't think it would matter very much if she and your wife did meet, and, on the whole, you'd be doing more harm by objecting beyond a certain point than you would by allowing it. So, as far as she's concerned, things had better drift. The worst of it is"--again the fingers on the eyeballs--"they don't drift." "Don't drift?" "You know what Miriam Levey is." I caught my breath. "You don't mean _she's_ any idea----" I said quickly.