"Oh, they'll get over it," said Bill easily. "It was only a poker outfit, anyhow."
"Oh."
Bill finished examining his papers and tossed them into the fireplace.
"Not a thing in the world that needs an answer," he sighed contentedly. "Ever occur to you, Miss Norcross, that there's a lot of paper wasted? If people would only put letters in their pockets and carry them for a couple of weeks, nine-tenths of them wouldn't need to be answered."
Mary was frowning.
"After this I hope you'll let me take charge of your mail," she said.
"It's all yours," said Bill generously. "I never get anything interesting, anyhow. Now, what'll we do?"
The situation was perplexing to her. She could not sit all morning simply talking to him; that might be social but not secretarial. There was a business relation to be preserved.
"You might plan out things," she suggested. "Give me your ideas about your—your——"
"Career?" he asked, with elaborate irony, and she nodded.