Again Martin felt the intimacy of Roberts’ tone and frowned.
“Perhaps you misinterpreted my question,” said the adviser coolly. “I asked if you were in your proper medium.”
Martin flushed and started to rise; but Roberts lifted his hand in a gesture of restraint.
“I really know how you feel,” he said gently. “Perhaps that’s why I spoke as I did. In your capacity as a job hunter, however, there can be no room for individual conflict; particularly in your relationship with one who, understanding, offers both his professional facilities and,” he said more slowly, “his friendship—” all the time looking directly at Martin with the strange color coming and going as he spoke.
“Cheeks—like a lost woman,” said Martin, trying to stop the sentence before it was out of his mouth.
Roberts stared at him for a second in astonishment. Then he went into uncontrollable laughter.
But Martin remained unsmiling.
“I’m sorry I said that,” he remarked severely. “I really can’t excuse it or explain it.”
“Well, I’m not sorry,” said Roberts, leaning forward. “It’s the first genuine fun I’ve had in a long time. I’d like more of it. But I’ll confess—it’s disruptive to the morale of the office.” Still amused, he glanced around him. His speech was high and unbalanced. “However,” he went on, becoming more practical, “I’m going to get you a job.”
“Well—” said Martin.