"Yes. He has had a raise, Mary. He telephoned--"
The two girls were in Mary's room. Dinner was over and Mary had slipped
on a Chinese coat of dull blue and had settled down for an evening with
her books. Mary's room was charming. In fifteen years she had had gifts
of various kinds from Knox. They had always been well chosen and
appropriate. Nothing could have been in better taste as an offering from
an employer to an employee than the embossed leather book ends and desk
set, the mahogany reading lamp with its painted parchment shade, the
bronze Buddha, the antique candlesticks, the Chelsea teacups, the
Sheffield tea caddy. Mary's comfortable salary had permitted her to buy
the book shelves and the tea table and the mahogany day bed. There was a
lovely rug which Mrs. Knox had sent her on the tenth anniversary of her
association with the office. Mrs. Knox looked upon Mary as a valuable
business asset. She invited her once a year to dinner.
Nannie wore her blue serge one-piece frock and a new winter hat. The hat
was a black velvet tam.
"You need something to brighten you up," Mary said; "take my beads."
The beads were jade ones which Mr. Knox had brought to Mary when he came
back from a six months' sojourn in the Orient. Mary had looked after the
office while he was away. He had clasped the beads about her neck. "Bend
your head while I put them on, Mary," he had commanded. He had been at
his desk in his private office while she sat beside him with her
note-book. And when he had clasped the beads and she had lifted her
head, he had said with a quick intake of his breath: "I've been a long
time away from you, Mary."
Nannie with the jade beads and her red hair and her velvet tam was
rather rare and wonderful. "Dick is going to take me to the show to
celebrate. He's got tickets to Jack Barrymore."
"Dick is such a nice boy," said Mary. "I'm glad you are going to marry
him, Nannie."
"Who said I was going to marry him?"
"That's what he wants, Nannie, and you know it."
"Mr. Knox says it is a pity for a girl like me to get married."
Mary's heart seemed to stop beating. She knew just how Knox had said it.
She spoke quietly. "I think it would be a pity for you not to marry,
Nannie."
"I don't see why. You aren't married, Mary."
"No."
"And Mr. Knox says that unless a girl can marry a man who can lift her
up she had better stay single."