That, of course, was quite out of the question. "I'll see if he's back home yet," I replied.
Then Kitty's uneasiness and curiosity got the better of her delicacy about the sky-blue uniform. She looked fixedly at her thin wrists and her fingers gave little touches to the lace about them as she spoke.
"Jeff," she said timorously, "I don't know whether you know what—what they're saying about you—I'm sure it's a hideous lie, but—but it's upset me frightfully——" She stopped abruptly, and seemed even then to wish she had not spoken.
"You seem very easily upset nowadays," I said shortly, quite ready to quarrel if needs be.
But she ignored my tone. "You know they're saying—everybody's saying—all the people here, I mean."
"What?" I demanded.
But her courage failed her. She stopped the fiddling at her wrists, and, giving me a long look said, "You know I love you, Jeff, whatever happens——"
It was what I had begun to fear—that there would be no shaking her off. She was far, far too faithful.
"I see," I said slowly. "I know what you mean.... Well, it was quite true. I was a commissionaire—until an hour ago. They've sacked me.... I suppose Archie told you?"
"Girl-faced little wretch! But, Jeff——"