He turned and walked by her side.
"Martha," he said, "you were very kind to me when I needed it, you were a companion to me when I was more miserable than I ever thought any human being could be. I was in a quandary then—in a very difficult position. I took a plunge. In a way I have been successful."
"Oh, we all know that!" she replied bitterly. "Pictures everywhere, notices in the paper all the time—you and your fine play! I've seen it. Didn't think much of it myself, but I suppose I'm not a judge."
"Tell me why you came out there looking as though you'd seen a ghost?" he asked.
"Discharged," she answered promptly.
"Why?"
"Fainted yesterday," she went on, "and was a bit wobbly to-day. The head clerk said he wanted some one stronger."
"Brute!" Philip muttered. "Well, that's all right, Martha. I have some work for you."
"Don't want to do your work."
"Little fool!" he exclaimed. "Martha, do you know you're the most obstinate, pig-headed, prejudiced, ill-tempered little beast I ever knew?"
"Then go along and leave me," she insisted, stopping short, "if I'm all that."
"You're also a dear!"
She drew a little breath and looked at him fiercely.
"Now don't be silly," he begged. "I'm starving. I had no lunch so that I could dine early. Here we are at Durrad's."
