irm--at least, he is a patient of mine."

"You will do nothing of the kind," she replied firmly. "It really
doesn't matter."

"What are you going to do? By Jove!" he said suddenly, "what a splendid
idea! I want a clinical secretary."

The humour of it got the better of her, and she laughed in his face.

"What is the joke?" he asked.

"Oh, I am so sorry, doctor, but you mustn't think I am ungrateful, but I
am beginning to regard myself as one of the plums in the labour market."

"Have you another position?" he asked quickly.

"I have just accepted one," she said, and he did not disguise his
disappointment, which might even have been interpreted, were Oliva more
conceited, into absolute chagrin.

"You are very quick," said he, and his voice had lost some of its
enthusiasm. "What position have you taken?"

"I am going into an office in the city," she said.

"That will be dull. If you have settled it in your mind, of course, I
cannot alter your decision, but I would be quite willing to give you L5
or L6 a week, and the work would be very light."

She held out her hand, and there was a twinkle in her eye.

"London is simply filled with people who want to give me L5 a week for
work which is very light; really I am awfully grateful to you, doctor."

She felt more cheerful as she mounted the stairs than she thought would
have been possible had such a position been forecast and had she to
speculate upon the attitude of mind with which she would meet such a
misfortune.

Punsonby's, for all the humiliation of her dismissal, seemed fairly
unimportant. Some day she would discover the circumstances which had
decided the high gods who presided over the ready-made clothing business
in their action.

She unlocked the door and passed in, not without a comprehensive and an
amused glance which took in the sober front doors of her new employer
and her would-be employer.

"Sarah, your luck's in," she said, as she banged the door--Sarah was the
approving version of Matilda. "If the wheezy man fires you, be sure
there'll be a good angel waiting on the doorstep to offer you L20 a week
for 'phoning the office once a day."

It occurred to her that it would be wise to place on record her protest
against her summary dismissal, and she went to the little
bookshelf-writing-table where she kept her writing-material to indite
the epistle whilst she thought of it. It was one of those little
fumed-oak contraptions where the desk is f