She couldn’t explain to Mr. Dunne that this was a most pardonable lateness, and not at all likely to happen again. Going to the City Hall for a marriage license wouldn’t occupy much of her time in the future. Thinking of this, she smiled again—and lost her job. Mr. Dunne didn’t like people who smiled when they were late.
So it happened that just when she badly needed a smile she hadn’t one. The wretched little imitation she gave to Hardy, an hour later, didn’t deceive him for an instant. He stopped beside her desk—a thing he had never done before.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded, and would not be put off.
No use to tell him that he shouldn’t stand there and talk to her! He knew that very well, and he didn’t care. A mighty rage filled him. Edith, his Edith, his own girl, to be discharged and humiliated like this!
“Get on your hat and jacket,” he commanded, “and come on!”
“Joe! You mustn’t—”
“Look here!” said he. “I won’t have you here like this. If Dunne told you to go, then go now. Good Lord! Haven’t you any pride?”
She was too wretched to be angry at him. She did get on her hat and jacket, and, in full view of every one. Hardy walked out of the office with her at three o’clock on a busy afternoon.
“We’ll go to the flat,” he said, “and talk it over.”
They had a flat of their own. Hardy had insisted upon this.