Monica sat down. She was glad of the support, but her manner was perfectly easy.
"The generous salary you pay me—of course."
Hendrie shook his head.
"I never pay generous salaries. Those who receive my salaries earn them."
Monica laughed. Slowly confidence was returning.
"That's so like you," she said. "I wonder if I earn $5000 a year. I have often worked twice as hard for half the sum."
"Quite so. But what was the work? From my point of view you earn the money, and perhaps more, by carrying the confidence I always know I can place in you. But, say, don't let's discuss the economy of commerce. Guess I came here on a different errand."
Monica averted her gaze. She looked out of the window she was facing.
"Yes," she said, with a sudden return of all her old apprehensions.
The man leaned forward in his chair. His hands were clasped together, and his forearms pressed heavily on his knees. There was a faint flush on his cheeks, and the usual contemplative light had passed from his eyes, leaving them alight with a growing fire of passion.