If Mr. Brent is politely hinting
that I won't do, I've a right to know it. I have a chance at
something else. Can't you tell me?"
"I don't know anything about it--honestly I don't, Miss
Lenox," cried he, swearing profusely.
"You put an accent on the `know,'" said Susan. "You suspect
that I'm right, don't you?"
"I've no ground for suspecting--that is--no, I haven't. He
said nothing to me--nothing. But he never does. He's very
peculiar and uncertain . . . and I don't understand him at all."
"Isn't this his usual way with the failures--his way of
letting them down easily?"
Susan's manner was certainly light and cheerful, an assurance
that he need have no fear of hysterics or despair or any sort
of scene trying to a soft heart. But Garvey could take but
the one view of the favor or disfavor of the god of his
universe. He looked at her like a dog that is getting a
whipping from a friend. "Now, Miss Lenox, you've no right to
put me in this painful----"
"That's true," said Susan, done since she had got what she
sought. "I shan't say another word. When Mr. Brent comes
back, will you tell him I sent for you to ask you to thank him
for me--and say to him that I found something else for which
I hope I'm better suited?"
"I'm so glad," said Garvey, hysterically. "I'm delighted.
And I'm sure he will be, too. For I'm sure he liked you,
personally--and I must say I was surprised when he went.
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