"Been at it again?" he said at last. "Since last time?"

"Twice," she answered. "I didn't like to tell you--I've hated
to bother you about it. But--what am I to do? I dislike him
intensely--I can't tell why, but it's there, and nothing could
ever alter the feeling. And though I told him--before--that
it was useless--he mentioned it again--yesterday--at Mrs.
Folliot's garden-party."

"Confound his impudence!" growled Ransford. "Oh, well!--I'll
have to settle with him myself. It's useless trifling with
anything like that. I gave him a quiet hint before. And
since he won't take it--all right!"

"But--what shall you do?" she asked anxiously. "Not--send him
away?"

"If he's any decency about him, he'll go--after what I say to
him," answered Ransford. "Don't you trouble yourself about
it--I'm not at all keen about him. He's a clever enough
fellow, and a good assistant, but I don't like him,
personally--never did."

"I don't want to think that anything that I say should lose
him his situation--or whatever you call it," she remarked
slowly. "That would seem--"

"No need to bother," interrupted Ransford. "He'll get another
in two minutes--so to speak. Anyway, we can't have this going
on. The fellow must be an ass! When I was young--"