"Tails," admitted Gregg. "Well, I'm soon through; probably Bill's told you most about me, anyway. I got fired because I wasn't producing; consequently, I had to cut expenses and moved to the quarters you've seen."
"You've not got another position yet, Gregg?"
"No; nor a job yet, either."
Not a word of his quarrel with Billy; and of course not a word of the start of his difficulty at his office when he was absent without leave for almost a week, because of her, and returned without offering explanation. Not an accent of regret for himself at having to inhabit the quarters she had seen; and, upon him, not a sign of any difference to him. His light-weight blue suit, which must have been new that spring, was spotless and perfectly pressed; his hair had probably been trimmed that day; she liked always the clean, well-kept look of him and, in spite of that house servanted only by the undefinable, Gregg was Gregg; and he was very good to have beside you.
"Now," he said, picking up his penny. "Your turn."
She wanted to know more of him; oh, she needed to know so much more! But she did not want him to tell her those things; and she realized he never would; and so, more simply than she could have imagined, she started to tell him about herself; about going first to see Mrs. Russell, on the morning after she had refused to speak with him for having lunched with Mrs. Russell; about Mr. Dantwill and Jen Cordeen and Clara and Jake Saltro and Sam Troufrie and Mr. Bostrock and some of her customers; of Sennen's and the strange, new but now familiar other places; and, of course, about Felix Rinderfeld and Wells' "Outline" and finally of Billy's coming. She did not recount events in order;
