Kowlaski began to whimper. "You will ruin me, my dear!"
"It would serve you right if I did. You have ruined others in your time. Don't you think I know you? Come--" she rapped on the table--"I want the week. To-morrow and till next Wednesday I'm out of the bill."
"But it cannot be done."
"It must be. I want it to be done."
Kowlaski tried bribing. "I will raise your salary if you stay!"
"Oh, la, la, la, la! I am quite pleased with what I get. If I wished my salary raised I should have it raised. I go for a week."
In the face of this obstinacy Kowlaski gave in. But first of all he tried threats, and Lola threatened to throw a chair at him. He finally agreed that she should have her week, and Lola walked out of the office without thanking him. That was the last he saw of her for seven days.
He made the most of her absence, declaring that she had been called away to nurse a dying mother and would reappear with a broken heart to keep her engagements with the public. Bawdsey saw this notice.
It was the first he had heard of Lola's escapade, and he went at once to her rooms in Bloomsbury to ask where she was going. Lola had already gone, and, according to the landlady, had left no information as to her whereabouts.
"Did she take a box?" asked Bawdsey.