ly Eda
Rawle arrived, and noticing her preoccupation, inquired what was the
matter.

"Nothing," said Janet....

At two o'clock, when Ditmar returned to the office, he called Miss
Ottway, who presently came out to summon Janet to his presence. Fresh,
immaculate, yet virile in his light suit and silk shirt with red stripes,
he was seated at his desk engaged in turning over some papers in a
drawer. He kept her waiting a moment, and then said, with apparent
casualness:--"Is that you, Miss Bumpus? Would you mind closing the
door?"

Janet obeyed, and again stood before him. He looked up. A suggestion of
tenseness in her pose betraying an inner attitude of alertness, of
defiance, conveyed to him sharply and deliciously once more the
panther-like impression he had received when first, as a woman, she had
come to his notice. The renewed and heightened perception of this feral
quality in her aroused a sense of danger by no means unpleasurable,
though warning him that he was about to take an unprecedented step, being
drawn beyond the limits of caution he had previously set for himself in
divorcing business and sex. Though he was by no means self-convinced of
an intention to push the adventure, preferring to leave its possibilities
open, he strove in voice and manner to be business-like; and instinct,
perhaps, whispered that she might take alarm.

"Sit down, Miss Bumpus," he said pleasantly, as he closed the drawer.

She seated herself on an office chair.

"Do you like your work here?" he inquired.

"No," said Janet.

"Why not?" he demanded, staring at her.

"Why should I?" she retorted.

"Well--what's the trouble with it? It isn't as hard as it would be in
some other places, is it?"

"I'm not saying anything against the place."

"What, then?"

"You asked me if I liked my work. I don't."

"Then why do you do it?" he demanded.

"To live," she replied.

He smiled, but his gesture as he stroked his moustache implied a slight
annoyance at her composure. He found it difficult with this dark,
self-contained young woman to sustain the role of benefactor.

"What kind of work would you like to do?" he demanded.

"I don't know. I haven't got the choice, anyway," she said.

He observed that she did her work well, to which she made no answer. She
refused to help him, although Miss Ottway must have warned her. She acted
as though she were conferring the favour. And yet, clearing his throat,
he was impelled to say:--"Mi