[p103]
But now Miss Bibby was at a disadvantage. “I—unfortunately I have come unprepared,” she said. “I did not expect to get the interview for quite a week. I brought no pencil and paper, and I might forget something you say.” She looked distressedly at his table.
“Oh, don’t mention a trifle like that,” said Hugh urbanely; “permit me to lend you my fountain-pen”—he handed it to her—“and, this writing-block, is that sufficient paper?”
“Oh, quite,” she said gratefully.
“Now then,” said Hugh, and he leaned back in his chair and lowered his eyelids over his wicked eyes, “I will answer any question you like to put to me.”
“How good you are!” breathed Miss Bibby.
Then there was a dead silence in the little room.
“Well,” said Hugh, opening his eyes, “why don’t you begin? It cannot be that compunction has suddenly seized you, I fear.”
The woman’s grey eyes wore their startled look again, there was the pink flag of distress on her cheeks.
“I—I cannot think of any of the questions I should ask,” she said chokingly. “I meant to have carefully studied other interviews; I did not expect to have it so suddenly. Oh, what can you think of me for wasting [p104] your time like this?” She made a motion as if to rise and go. But Hugh waved her back to her chair.
“Possibly,” he said with smoothest courtesy, “I may be able to help you. It would be a pity to let such trifles prevent you from earning money. I presume you will be paid for this?”