It was not easy, however, to fix her mind on her job. Something had told her that she was going to be “fired”; and probably quite soon. She was really more occupied with what could be saved from the wreck than with the task in hand. But however she looked at the matter, there was no escaping the fact that it was in Lady Violet’s power to ruin her socially.
Unless!
It was also in Lady Violet’s power to ruin her professionally, unless Elmer P. was willing to forgive her for making him look a fool. In any case she would have earned the reputation of being a regular fly-up-the-creek; and she knew enough of her calling by this time to be aware that such a name was about the worst possible for a newspaper girl.
While Mame was wrestling with these unhappy thoughts Lady Violet came into the room. She hardly ventured to look at the face of her friend. Somehow she was afraid to read her doom, which in her present mood was going to be more than she could bear.
Lady Violet gazed upon the rather woe-begone little figure seated before a piece of mechanism which she herself profoundly disliked. “Hard at it!” The tone was cheery, but it was non-committal. It was impossible for Mame to tell what her feelings were or what the decision was to which she had come.
Mame had very little hope. But, although she was careful not to betray it, she had a certain amount of defiance. As she bent over the machine she felt the eyes of Lady Violet upon her. After all, why should this girl sit in judgment? So far she had only had to play at life. She had never had to wonder where the next crust was coming from; she had never had to drudge at things she hated; she had never really known what it was to be tempted. Boredom, squalor, misery, what did this high-flyer know of these?
Mame was feeling sore. And there was a kind of savage pride in her, which forbade the showing of her heart. She would ask no concession. How could she, without lowering herself in her own eyes? If the sentence was ruin she would accept it. She must find the strength to pack her traps and walk out of that alluring house just as if nothing had happened.
All the same these thoughts hurt so much that her eyes began to fill with tears. They were the first which had gathered there since the weary days of childhood that now seemed very far away. Suddenly quite a large one dripped on to the machine. Mame fiercely brushed it off with her handkerchief. But it was too late. The mischief was done.
There was a pause. It was rather strained and rather odd. And then she woke to the fact that Lady Violet was speaking. Moreover, she was speaking in the gay and whimsical voice that Mame had grown to love.
“Little Puss, I’ve been thinking about things. I’m more to blame than you. One had no right to tempt you like that.”