Perhaps he had been too impulsive.
"You--you can find other and more pleasant work, I am sure," he said
with hesitation. "I hope you will forgive me for thrusting myself
into your concerns, but I really could not stand for that man
backing up your customer instead of you. He did order meringue pie.
I heard him."
She smiled, and he caught the faint flicker of it as it curved her
lips and made her eyes shine for an instant. Minute following
minute, she was becoming more attractive. His voice trembled when he
spoke again:
"I--I hope you will forgive me."
"You did just what I should have expected my brother to do, if I had
a brother," she replied frankly. "But few girls who work at Sellers'
have brothers."
"No?" Something in her voice, rather than in the words, startled
Tunis.
"Let me put it differently," she said, still with that gentle
cadence which ameliorated the bitterness of her tone. "Girls who
have brothers seldom fall into Sellers' clutches. You see, he is a
last resort. He does not demand references, and he poses as a
philanthropist."
Tunis felt confused, in a maze. He could not imagine where the girl
was tacking. He was keenly aware, however, that there was a mystery
about her being employed at all in Sellers' restaurant.
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