“Suppose this meeting irritated him,” said Wilfred. “Mind you, I don’t think he noticed us one way or t’other; but if it was called to his attention that he had the power to injure me, he might write to his editor telling him to step on my stuff hereafter. That’s the worst of power: a man can’t always resist the temptation of making it felt, even if there’s nothing in particular to be gained.”
“Oh, Wilfred . . . !”
“He and his like are our masters,” said Wilfred serenely, “and it behooves us to step warily in their presence.”
“How can you be so calm about it?”
“Well,” said Wilfred, grinning sideways at her, “I have, to use that word which you despise, compensations!”
Fanny suddenly slipped her arm through his.
“Oh, Wilfred . . .” she faltered. “You’re such a dear . . . ! I’m sorry . . . ! I believe I’m going to cry. . . . Now, I’m sure I am! I can’t keep it back . . . !”
“That’s all right! We’ll turn down this side street. Let her fly, old girl! . . .”
THE END