"Nothing to say, then?" queried Margaret. He shook his head again. "You know," she added, "I 'm not a bit ashamed—not of anything."
"Of course you 're not," he agreed readily. "You did what you thought was right."
"But you don't think so?" she persisted.
"Miss Harding," replied Mr. Samson; "so far as I can manage it, I don't think about the matter at all."
Margaret had a queer impulse to reply to this by bursting into tears or laughter, whichever should offer itself, but at that moment Mrs. Jakes came out, and restrained a too obvious surprise at the sight of the pair of them in conversation. Circumstances were forever lying in ambush against Mrs. Jakes and deepening the mystery of life by their unexpected poppings up.
She addressed Mr. Samson and pointedly ignored Margaret.
"Mr. Ford could see you now, if you cared to go up," she announced.
"Certainly, certainly," said Mr. Samson, with alacrity.
Margaret spoke, smiling openly at Mrs. Jakes' irreconcilable side-face.
"Oh, would you mind if I went first?" she asked. "I rather want to see him."