Mr. Samson smiled. He considered it fitting and rather endearing that a young woman should be ignorant of such things and easily shocked when they were revealed.
"Seen it all before, my dear young lady," he assured her. "It 's natural you should be surprised, but it's not so uncommon as you think. Why, I remember, once, in '87, a feller gettin' out of a cab because he said there was a bally great python there—a feller I knew; a member of Parliament."
Margaret looked at Ford, who nodded.
"He knows all right," he said, quietly. "But I don't think you need be nervous. When it comes to that, we 'll have to do something."
"I 'm not nervous—not in that way, at least," said Margaret. "Only—must it come to that? Isn't there anything that can be done?"
"If we got a doctor here, the chances are he 'd report the matter to the authorities," said Ford. "This place is licensed or certified or something, and that would be the end of it. And then, even if there wasn't that, it isn't easy to put the matter to Mrs. Jakes."
"I—I suppose not," agreed Margaret thoughtfully. "Still, if you decided it was necessary—you and Mr. Samson—I 'd be willing to help as far as I could. I wouldn't like to see Mrs. Jakes suffer for lack of anything I could do."
"That's good of you," answered Ford. "I mean—good of you, really. We won't leave you out of it when the time comes, because we shall need you."
"Always knew Miss Harding was a sportsman," came unexpectedly from Mr. Samson in the rear. And then the handle of the door, which was loose and arbitrary in its workings, rattled warningly and Mrs. Jakes re-appeared.
She made a compunctious mouth, and expressed with headshakes a sense that all was not well, though perfectly natural and proper, with the doctor. Her eyes seemed rather to dwell on Margaret as she gave her bulletin.