“What did he say?” asked Mildred.
“What could he say? ‘All right, sir. Yes, sir! No, sir!’ He had to come down off his high horse that time!”
Mildred had a vision of young Randall, not domineering and energetic, but standing downcast and unhappy before his chief.
“I think it’s a shame!” she cried suddenly. “Mr. Williams might have closed the door, anyhow, so that no one would hear!”
“It’ll do Randall good,” said the other, with satisfaction.
“No, it won’t!” Mildred retorted.
She felt certain that humiliation would not do Randall good, but harm. A great anger filled her, and a curious fear.
“He can’t stand that,” she thought. “He won’t stand it. He’ll do something silly. If Mr. Williams had just talked to him quietly and nicely—if some one would—”
III
She had lunch alone in a little tea room, and all the while she thought of Randall, the arrogant, who had been humiliated and humbled. Playing poker and drinking! They were things utterly outside her experience, and the thought of them filled her with dismay and alarm.