The girl hesitated so long that he thought she had not understood, and was about to repeat the question when something in her pallor and in her uplifted eyes checked him.
"I don't know why I was sent away," she said in a colourless voice.
He thought for a while, then, carelessly: "I take it that there was nothing irregular in your conduct?"
"No."
"You'd tell me if there was, wouldn't you?"
She lifted her dark eyes to his. "Yes," she said.
How much of an expert he was at judging faces he did not know, but he was perfectly satisfied with himself when she took her leave.
And when Dankmere came in after luncheon he said:
"I've engaged a book-keeper. Her name is Jessie Vining. She's evidently unhappy, poor, underfed, and the prettiest thing you ever saw out of a business college. So, being unhappy, poor, underfed and pretty, I take it that she's all to the good."
"It's a generous world of men," said Dankmere—"so I guess she is good."