Mary stared at him in cold silence. He mistook it for wavering. He felt that it was time to fling back the tide.
"I didn't choose to go into society, did I? I was dragged into it—and you were hired to drag me. Now you take the job of trying to come between me and my friends. You try to make a Rollo out of me. Would any self-respecting man stand for that?"
Bill was working up to it as he went along.
"I think you'd better remember your position and mine. If I were you, I'd bear in mind that you're my secretary—not my boss. If I were you——"
Mary sprang to her feet. "I'm not your secretary!" she cried, in a trembling voice.
"Oh, but I think you've already admitted that," he said, with an angry laugh.
"Well, I'm not now! I was, but not any more. I resign! Do you hear? I resign!"
Saying which, she sat down again and burst into tears.
The wrath in Bill's eyes faded slowly. In its place came a look of dismay, of astonishment, of clumsy embarrassment. He began shifting his feet. He took his hands out of his pockets and put them back again. He chewed his lip.