Men have no idea of the value of time," she added as the professor
vanished. "My dear you must not let Benis overwork you. He doesn't
intend to be unkind, but men never think."




CHAPTER XXIX

Desire turned back to her papers as the door closed. But her manner
was no longer brisk and business-like. There was a small, hot lump
in her throat.

"It isn't fair," she thought passionately. "It's all very well to
talk, but it does make a difference--it does. If I'm not his
secretary what am I?" A hot blush crimsoned her white skin and she
stamped her foot. "I'm not his wife. I'm not! I'm not!" she said
defiantly.

There was no one to contradict her. Even Yorick was silent. And, as
contradiction is really necessary to belligerency, some of the fire
died out of her stormy eyes. But it flared again as thought flung
thought upon the embers.

"Wife!" How dared he use the word? And in that tone! A word that
meant nothing to him. Nothing, save a cold, calm statement of claim.
. . . Not that she wanted it to mean anything else. Had she not,
herself, arranged a most satisfactory basis of coolness and
calmness? (Reason insisted upon reminding her of this.) And a strict
recognition of this basis was precisely what she wanted, of course.