He was commenting on the portentous date, May first, when the price of the History was to advance. The company had somehow succeeded in postponing the fateful day for two weeks, and the public was to have a fortnight longer in which to take advantage of the low prices.
“... and after that, no one knows what will happen. Perhaps we’ll all lose our jobs.”
“Oh,—do you really think so?” Jeannette was aghast.
“Well, some of us will go; they can’t continue to keep that mob on the pay-roll. I don’t think they’ll let you go, though, you’re such a dandy stenographer. I shall certainly recommend them to keep you, but I doubt if they’ll have any further use for me. They’ll let me out, all right.”
He smiled whimsically. It was this whimsical smile the girl found so appealing and so—so disconcerting.
“I shall be sorry if that happens,” she said slowly.
“Will you?”
“Why, of course.”
“But will you be really sorry if—if I’m no longer there?”
“We-ll,—it will be hard getting used to someone else’s dictation; I’m accustomed to yours now.”