Martha clenched her fists with determination.
"Why, I'd start at the very bottom; I'd work like anything, to succeed," she said tensely.
Clayton closed the case and rose to his feet.
"Really, Miss Farnum, I didn't know you were so much in earnest about it," he explained.
"You see, my service with Mrs. Kilpatrick ends in a few days," said Martha, simply. "She is going to Italy, and there is nothing left for me to do but return home, and our people are too poor and I must earn a living to help them."
"So you really want to go on the stage?" said Clayton, thoughtfully. "I wouldn't advise it. There are too many dangers, too many temptations."
"Do you think I care for the dangers?" cried Martha, almost contemptuously. "All of the temptations are not on the stage. The department stores, the shops, the offices—why not think of them? Girls work there, hundreds and thousands of them. But the moment a girl mentions the stage, some one cries out about the temptations. It's absurd."
The fiery outburst of the young girl startled Clayton, who realized that in an argument on this theme he was likely to be worsted. Moreover, he was placed in the unenviable position of being obliged to argue against a course which he felt sure would be disastrous, or at least difficult, while during their short talk he had grown to be genuinely interested in Martha. Like a prudent general, he sought safety in retreat.
"About these scarabs," he began, "I should like to speak to Mrs. Kilpatrick."
Martha's thoughts, however, so suddenly directed to a new channel, were difficult to concentrate on anything so mundane as scarabs. It was several seconds before she recollected herself and answered his question: