She nodded.
“Come into my workroom,” she said. “I’ve got something to say to you. I—I had a visitor yesterday.”
Even when they were alone and the door was shut, he shrank from his task. He looked around, surprised at the evidences of industry.
“Are you making your own dresses?” he asked. “I didn’t think that was in your line.”
“No, but there is plenty of work to do,” she answered hurriedly. “Enoch, I had a visitor yesterday.”
“You get a good many, don’t you?” he answered indifferently.
“This one was different. It was Mr. Martinghoe.” He was surprised.
“Did he come to see you?”
“No, he came to see you,” she answered. “He had been to the works, but you were not there. He stayed for a long time, and we had a talk.”
“Well?”