Alison's cheeks burned, for she knew that Florence had been correctly informed; but she had no thought of mentioning that she had expostulated with her mother on the subject.
"Well," said Florence, "it was not your fault, and I'm sorry for you. I suppose you had—difficulties—with some of your employers? No doubt one or two of them tried to make love to you?"
Alison made a little gesture of disgust.
"Oh," laughed Florence, "I know. You probably flared out at the offender, and either got your work found fault with or lost your situation. I didn't. After all, a smile costs nothing, though it's a little difficult now and then. In my case, it led to shorter hours, higher wages, an occasional Saturday afternoon trip to the country. I got what I could, and in due time it was generally easy to turn round upon and get rid of the provider. Still, it was just a little humiliating with a certain type of man, and it was a relief when Elcot took me out of it. I try to remember that I owe him that when he gets unusually wearisome, though one must do him the justice to admit that he never refers to it."
Alison sat silent, shrinking from her companion. She had faced a good many unpleasant things during the past few years, but they had wrought but little change in her nature. The part her hostess had played would have been a wholly hateful one to her.
"Where did you come across Thorne?" Florence asked.
Alison told her, and she looked thoughtful.
"When was that? I supposed you had come straight from the station."
"Four days ago," answered Alison unhesitatingly, though she would have much preferred not to mention it.
"Four days! And you have been driving round the country since then with Thorne?"