She did not answer his question until she had shrunk completely within herself and was again thickly veiled with the expression which made everyone think her insignificant. "Nothing I could afford to do," said she. It was plain that she did not wish to be questioned further along that line.
"The stage?" he persisted.
"I hadn't thought of it," was her answer.
"What then?"
"I don't think about things I can't have. I never made any definite plans."
"But isn't it a good idea always to look ahead? As long as one has to be moving, one might as well move in a definite direction."
She was waiting with pencil poised.
"There isn't much of a future at this business."
She shrank slightly. He felt that she regarded his remark as preparation for a kindly hint that she was not giving satisfaction. . . . Well, why not leave it that way? Perhaps she would quit of her own accord—would spare him the trouble—and embarrassment—of arranging with Tetlow for another place for her. He began to dictate—gave her a few sentences mockingly different from his usual terse and clear statements—interrupted himself with:
"You misunderstood me a while ago. I didn't mean you weren't doing your work well. On the contrary, I think you'll soon be expert. But I thought perhaps I might be able to help you to something you'd like better."