“I hope that you won’t be delayed like this again, Miss Bower, however good the reason. It gives a bad example,” and she was frightened, cowed, by his look of mingled anger and contempt.
Each of them got through his and her morning work with difficulty—Jean often on the point of tears.
What had happened to her kind, considerate employer, the man with whom, in her guilelessness, she had thought herself almost on the terms of a younger sister?
At last, at about a quarter to one, he turned on her with: “And what do you see to admire, Miss Bower, in Dr. Tasker?”
It was a monstrous, an outrageous, question, and the colour flew into her face.
She turned away and answered in what she meant should be a cheerful, chaffing voice, though she felt not only astounded, but hot with anger.
“What ma
