"I'm blessed if I know," he burst out at last. "I suppose it's because he's 'M.S.,'" and he returned to his plate.
"Yes, but why is it?" she persisted, as she continued mechanically to crumble her bread. "That's what I want to know; why is it?"
Thompson looked at her a little anxiously. By nature he was inclined to take things for granted, things outside his profession that is.
"It's a funny old world, Tommikins," she repeated at length, picking up her knife and fork, "funnier for some than for others."
Thompson looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. There were times when he found Gladys Norman difficult to understand.
"For a girl, I mean," she added, as if that explained it.
Thompson still stared. The remark did not strike him as illuminating.
"It may be," she continued meditatively, "that I like doing things for the Chief because he was my haven of refuge from a wicked world; but that doesn't explain why you and Tims——"
"Your haven of refuge!" repeated Thompson, making a gulp of a mouthful, and once more laying down his knife and fork, as he looked across at her curiously.
"Before I went to the Ministry I had one or two rather beastly experiences." She paused as if mentally reviewing some unpleasant incident.