"I am listening to you." She turned contemptuous grey eyes on him.

"Hang the letter! I don't mean that. You've got to listen about other
things!"

He stretched out his hand to touch her, and she drew back. She rose, and
her eyes flashed.

"If you touch me, Mr. Slotman, I shall--" She paused; she looked about
her; she picked up a heavy ebony ruler from his desk. "I shall defend
myself!"

"Don't be a fool," he said, yet took a step backwards, for there was
danger in her eyes.

"Look here, you won't get another job in a hurry, and you know it.
Shorthand typists are not wanted these days, the schools are turning out
thousands of 'em, all more or less bad; but I--I ain't talking about
that, dear--" He took a step towards her, and then recoiled, seeing
her knuckles shine whitely as she gripped the ruler. "Come, be
sensible!"

"Are you going to persist in this annoyance of me?" she demanded. "Can't
I make you understand that I am here to do my work and for no other
purpose?"

"Supposing," he said, "supposing--I--I asked you to marry me?"

He had never meant to say this, yet he had said it, for the fascination