This was the thought that softened my voice into the timid and suppressed “office” key, which I felt I couldn’t keep up very much longer.
“Have I been saying and doing the wrong things before your people then? I am sorry!”
I hoped my voice was not going to run away with me, but I heard myself beginning to lose control over that serviceable meekness as I went on.
“It is rather difficult for me, you know. Still, I did think I seemed everything that your fiancée ought to be! I have been trying——”
“You have,” admitted Mr. Waters grimly. “Very.”
“Do you mean I haven’t been a success, then?” I heard myself demanding quickly. “Oh! Because, if I don’t give satisfaction——”
I stopped. It wasn’t my place to finish the sentence with “I had better give notice!”
“H’m,” said my employer curtly. “I see.”
Did he “see,” I wondered? Did he realize that, though I was bound hand and foot by that absurd muddle of an agreement, he might break it when he chose, and that I was longing, desperately, for him to do so then and there?