e
Josephine began upon the same subject. With studied indifference--how
amusing for a woman of her inexperience to try to fool a man of his
experience!--she said:

"Tell me some more about that typewriter girl. Women who work always
interest me."

"She wouldn't," said Norman. The subject had been driven clean out of
his mind, and he didn't wish to return to it. "Some day they will
venture to make judicious long cuts in Wagner's operas, and then they'll
be interesting. It always amuses me, this reverence of little people for
the great ones--as if a great man were always great. No--he _is_ always
great. But often it's in a dull way. And the dull parts ought to be
skipped."

"I don't like the opera this evening," said she. "What you said a while
ago has set me to thinking. Is that girl a lady?"

"She works," laughed he.

"But she might have been a lady."

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Don't you know _anything_ about her?"

"Except that she's trustworthy--and insignificant and not too good at
her business."

"I shouldn't think you could afford to keep incompetent people," said
the girl shrewdly.

"Perhaps they won't keep her," parried Norman gracefully. "The head
clerk looks after those things."

"He probably likes her."

"No," said Norman, too indifferent to be cautious. "She has no
'gentlemen friends.'"

"How do you know that?" said the girl, and she could not keep a certain
sharpness out of her voice.

"Tetlow, the head clerk, told me. I asked him a few questions about her.
I had some confidential work to do and didn't want to trust her without
being sure."

He saw that she was now prey to her jealous suspicion. He was uncertain
whether to be amused or irritated. She had to pause long and with
visible effort collect herself before venturing:

"Oh, she does confidential work for you? I thought you said she was
incompetent."

He, the expert cross-examiner, had to admire her skill at that high
science and art. "I felt sorry for her," he said. "She seemed such a
forlorn little creature."

She laughed with a constrained attempt at raillery. "I never should have
suspected you of such weakness. To give confidential things to a forlorn
little incompetent, out of pity."

He was irritated, distinctly. The whole thing was preposterous. It
reminded him of feats of his own before a jury. By clever questioning,
Josephine had made about as trifling an incident as could be imagined
take on really quite imposing