"How long have you been with us?" he inquired at last.
"Thirty-five years, sir," said Hartley, studying his face with sudden anxiety.
"A long time," said the senior partner, dryly. "A long time."
"A pleasant time, sir," ventured the other, in a low voice.
Mr. Vyner's features relaxed, and took on—after some trouble—an appearance of benevolence.
"I hope so," he said, in patronizing tones. "I hope so. Vyner and Son have the name for being good masters. I have never heard any complaints."
He pushed his chair back and, throwing one leg over the other, looked down at his patent-leather boots. The benevolent expression had disappeared.
"Thirty-five years," he said, slowly. "H'm! I had no idea it was so long. You have—ha—no family, worth mentioning?"
"One daughter," said Hartley, his lips going suddenly dry.