The little chat lasted the better part of an hour, but it passed without embarrassments. The terms were beyond Mary's hopes. As for Aunt Caroline, she was quaint and captivating. Strange to say, she did not ask many more questions. For the most part, she talked about herself; occasionally she reverted to Mary's references which, it was obvious, had made an indelible impression. Mary discovered a prompt liking for the old lady, and the more she liked her the more shame she had in the masquerade she was playing. Only the desperate plight of a sick girl kept her nerved to the ordeal.

She was taking her leave when Aunt Caroline remarked casually:

"I feel sure that you will not find my nephew unduly exacting in the work he expects of you."

[Pg 34]

[Pg 34]

"Nephew?" asked Mary.

"How odd, my dear. I didn't tell you, did I? I'm afraid I forget things sometimes. You see, you are not my secretary at all. You are to be secretary to my nephew."

Mary stared.

"Why—I——"

"Oh, Miss Norcross! You mustn't say you can't. You will find him most considerate. He is really a brilliant fellow. He stood first in his class at college, and he is even interested in religious matters. He has a very promising social career ahead of him."

Something was whirling in Mary's brain. She felt as though she were shooting through space, and then bringing up against a wall at the farther end of it, where a large and grinning person stood offering apologies by the million. She was going to be secretary to him—she knew it.

"Say that you will try it, anyhow," pleaded Aunt Caroline. "I insist."

Too late for retreat, thought Mary. Besides, what difference did it make, after all? The money had to be earned. And she felt quite sure that he would not dream of asking her about Mrs. Rokeby-Jones's daughter.

"I shall report in the morning," she said.

[Pg 35]

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