"My address is 342 Lothbury," he went on, "342. You may begin work this afternoon and" He hesitated.
"And?" she repeated.
"And I think it would be wise if you didn't tell your friend, the doctor, that I am employing you."
He was examining his finger-nails attentively as he spoke, and he did not meet her eye.
"There are many reasons," he went on. "In the first place, I have blotted my copy-book, as they say, in Krooman Mansions, and it might not rebound to your credit."
"You should have thought of that before you asked me to come to you," she said.
"I thought of it a great deal," he replied calmly.
There was much in what he said, as the girl recognized. She blamed herself for her hasty promise, but somehow the events of the previous night had placed him on a different footing, had given him a certain indefinable position to which the inebriate Mr. Beale had not aspired.
"I am afraid I am rather bewildered by all the mystery of it," she said, "and I don't think I will come to the office to-day. To-morrow morning, at what hour?"
"Ten o'clock," he said, "I will be there to explain your duties. Your salary will be £5 a week. You will be in charge of the office, to which I very seldom go, by the way, and your work will be preparing statistical returns of the wheat-crops in all the wheat-fields of the world for the last fifty years."
"It sounds thrilling," she said, and a quick smile flashed across his face.
"It is much more thrilling than you imagine," were his parting words.
She reached Krooman Mansions just as the doctor was coming out, and he looked at her in surprise.
"You are back early!"
Should she tell him? There was no reason why she shouldn't. He had been a good friend of hers and she felt sure of his sympathy. It occurred to her at that moment that Mr. Beale had been most unsympathetic, and had not expressed one word of regret.
