“No, Mr. Flint....  Yes, Mr. Flint....” he mocked.  “Good Lord! can’t you cut that school-girl-to-her-dignified-guardian attitude.  I’m human.  Dammit all, I’m as human as your friend Ned Stillman.  I’ll bet you don’t yes-sir and no-sir him....  You know, that night I saw you at the Palace you quite bowled me over.  I’d been thinking of you as a shy, unsophisticated young thing.  But you were hitting the high places like a veteran.  Even old lady Condor didn’t have anything on you.  Except, of course, that she looks the part.  By the way, where did you meet Stillman?”

“At ... at a church social,” Claire stammered.

“At a church social!  Say, I wasn’t born yesterday.  Ned Stillman doesn’t go to church.  Tell me something easy.”

“It was really a Red Cross concert.  He went with Mrs. Condor,” Claire found herself explaining in spite of her anger.  “We sat at the same table when the ice-cream was served.”

Flint was roaring with exaggerated laughter.  Even Claire could not restrain a smile.  What made the statement so ridiculous, she found herself wondering.  Was she unconsciously reflecting Flint’s attitude or had she herself changed so tremendously in the last few weeks?

“Stillman at a church social!  But that is good!  And eating ice-cream....  How long ago did all this happen, pray?”

“Sometime in November.”

He stopped his senseless guffawing and looked at her keenly.  “Where did you get the church-social habit?”

“I ... why, I guess I formed it early, Mr. Flint.  As you say, sixty-five dollars a month doesn’t leave much for hair ribbons or anything else.  Going to church socials is about the cheapest form of recreation I can think of.”

The bitterness of her tone seemed to pull Flint up with a round turn.  “Well, we’re going to get you out of this silly church-social habit.  Dammit all, Stillman isn’t the only possibility in sight.  That’s just what I wanted to get at—­your viewpoint.  I take an interest in you, Miss Robson—­a tremendous interest.  Good Lord!  I can dance one-steps and fox-trots and hesitations as well as anybody!  I danced every bit as well as Ned Stillman when we went to dancing-school together.  But he always got most of the applause.  He has an air, I don’t deny that, but he’s working it overtime....  And he’s not in any better position for being friendly to you than I am—­he’s married.”

The talk was sobering him a little.  Claire was amazed to find that she did not feel indignant.  His tone was offensive, but at least it was forthright.  Besides, she had known instinctively that some day he would force the issue, and she was rather glad to get it settled.  And she began to hope that she could persuade him skilfully against his warped convictions.  She was trembling inwardly, too, at the thought that she might make a false step and find herself out of a position.  Positions were not easy to land these days.  She knew a half-score of girls who had tramped the town over in a desperate effort to find a vacancy.  Two or three months without salary meant debts piling up, clothes in ribbons, and no end of hectic worries.