“I had hoped,” she said severely, “that you would have had the good taste to avoid this subject. Since you have opened it, however, let me remind you that I am a woman, and that feelings count for far more with me than arguments. You may have been perfectly justified in what you did. At the same time, you were the immediate cause of the tragedy surrounding my father’s death. For that I shall never forgive you.”
“It doesn’t seem quite fair, does it?” he complained, with a strange little quiver of his underlip.
“Women seldom are fair in their likes and dislikes,” she pronounced. “I hope you will not pursue the subject.”
“Is it permitted to ask you any questions with regard to your present avocation?” he ventured, a few minutes later.
“I have no objection to telling you what I am doing,” she replied. “I am taking a course of shorthand and typewriting at an office in Fleet Street.”
The horror of it chilled Jacob to the very soul. He had only that morning received a cheque from his brother for an unexpected bonus, which amounted to more than she would ever be able to earn in the whole course of her life.
“Is that absolutely necessary?” he asked.
“We have two hundred a year between us, my mother and I,” she answered drily. “Perhaps you can understand that an extra two or three pounds a week is desirable.”
“Damn!” Jacob muttered, under his breath.