"I don't see how you put up with him!" said Miriam.
"Put up with him!" echoed Bobo. In his fancy Jack could see the blank look that overspread the honest fat face. "Why—why, what's the matter with Jack?"
"The way he runs you, I mean. One would think he was the millionaire, and you the hired secretary."
Bobo made queer, scared noises in his throat. It seemed to Jack that Miriam must suspect that she had hit the nail on the head, but apparently she did not, for her next words were in the same drawling, careless tone.
"He all but tells you how to answer when people speak to you."
"Oh!" said Bobo, somewhat relieved. "But Jack's clever, and I'm not."
"You're not as stupid as he likes to make out," suggested Miriam.
"Devil!" thought Jack.
"Make out!" said Bobo. "Jack doesn't make out anything. He's my friend."
"My poor Bobo!" she said with indulgent tenderness. "You're criminally good-natured! Of course he knows which side his bread is buttered on. He's not going to say anything openly. But friends! Oh, how blind you are!"