"You don't believe me? Very well, Miss Thursday—wait! Some day I'll surprise you." He swung back in his chair, smiling genially. "Some one of these days you'll set your heart on something I have the say in—and then you'll be able to judge of my sincerity."
"If I dared believe you," Joan told him boldly, "I might put you to the test sooner than you think."
"Well, and why not? I'm ready."
But as Joan would have gone on, the desk-telephone rang sharply, and Marbridge, excusing himself with a mumbled apology, turned to the instrument and lifted the receiver to his ear.
"Hello.... Who?... Oh, send her in to see Mr. Arlington.... Oh, he did, eh?... Well, say I'm not in either.... Yes, gone for the day."
Replacing the instrument, he swung round again. "There's proof already," he informed her cheerfully. "That was Nella Cardrow—one of the biggest propositions on our list—star of 'Mrs. Mixer.' And I'm putting her off solely to show you how sincerely I'm interested in what you have to say to me." He bent forward again, confidentially. "Now tell me: what can I do for you?"
"Give me a job," Joan informed him honestly. "That's all I want just now—work—a part in anything you have influence with."
"Then you have left 'The Lie'?" Marbridge persisted incredulously.
Joan nodded. "I had to. I couldn't stand it any longer."
"But—without you—why, I don't know what they were thinking of, to let you go!"