"Of course. Come along."
"But I couldn't go in these clothes," exclaimed Martha. "I'd have to change—I've got a little evening frock I used to wear to dances back in Indiana. Oh, I'm sure there can be no harm, and even if Aunt Jane is angry, it will blow over by to-morrow."
"Of course. How soon will you be ready?"
"In twenty minutes."
"I'll drive over to the club and return for you. I'd wait here only these boarding-house parlors are so public. And that reminds me—you'd better move to some other place where you can have some comfort and decent surroundings."
"I'm sure this is very nice, and all I can afford," replied Martha, with some show of spirit.
"Oh, you can afford better quarters when Weldon engages you to-morrow," replied Gordon. "Your salary will be bigger, of course. Hurry up and change your togs. I'll wait out front in the car when I return."
Three minutes later, Martha was still standing alone in the otherwise empty parlor. Indecision was written on her face. Gordon had gone, but still she made no move toward her room and the changing of her gown. The outer door had slammed, and Flossie Forsythe entered with the usual harmonious accompaniment of the rattling chatelaines.
"Hello, Martha," cried Flossie. "Wasn't that Sanford Gordon just got in his limousine in front of the house? Came from here, too. I saw him just as I turned the corner."
"Really?" replied Martha, coldly, moving toward the door. "I suppose you know him better than I do," she added, as she left the room.