ut
it, one way or the other. If Mr. Brent is politely hinting
that I won't do, I've a right to know it. I have a chance at
something else. Can't you tell me?"

"I don't know anything about it--honestly I don't, Miss
Lenox," cried he, swearing profusely.

"You put an accent on the 'know,'" said Susan. "You suspect
that I'm right, don't you?"

"I've no ground for suspecting--that is--no, I haven't. He
said nothing to me--nothing. But he never does. He's very
peculiar and uncertain . . . and I don't understand him at all."

"Isn't this his usual way with the failures--his way of
letting them down easily?"

Susan's manner was certainly light and cheerful, an assurance
that he need have no fear of hysterics or despair or any sort
of scene trying to a soft heart. But Garvey could take but
the one view of the favor or disfavor of the god of his
universe. He looked at her like a dog that is getting a
whipping from a friend. "Now, Miss Lenox, you've no right to
put me in this painful----"

"That's true," said Susan, done since she had got what she
sought. "I shan't say another word. When Mr. Brent comes
back, will you tell him I sent for you to ask you to thank him
for me--and say to him that I found something else for which
I hope I'm better suited?"

"I'm so glad," said Garvey, hysterically. "I'm delighted.
And I'm sure he will be, too. For I'm sure he liked you,
personally--and I must say I was surprised when he went. But
I must not say that sort of thing. Indeed, I know nothing,
Miss Lenox--I assure you----"

"And please tell him," interrupted Susan, "that I'd have
written him myself, only I don't want to bother him."

"Oh, no--no, indeed. Not that, Miss Lenox. I'm so sorry.
But I'm only the secretary. I can't say anything."

It was some time before Susan could get rid of him, though he
was eager to be gone. He hung in the doorway, ejaculating
disconnectedly, dropping and picking up his hat, perspiring
profusely, shaking hands again and again, and so exciting her
pity for his misery of the good-hearted weak that she was for
the moment forgetful of her own plight. Long before he went,
he had greatly increased her already strong belief in Brent's
generosity of character--for, thought she, he'd have got
another secretary if he hadn't been too kind to turn adrift so
helpless and foolish a creature. Well--he should have no
trouble in getting rid of her.

She was seeing little of Spenser an