CHAPTER XVI
NEXT morning when Brent went down to breakfast he was as a man who had passed through an illness. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was pale, his step was nervous and weak.
"Just what I expected," muttered Mrs. Jones. "He was in a beastly condition last night. I shall speak to Mr. Perkins about it. He had no right to take and get him in such a state."
She was more incensed than ever when the gay young clerk came in looking perfectly fresh. "He's used to it," she told herself, "and it does n't tell on him, but it's nearly killed that poor young man."
"Hullo there, Brent," said Perkins. "You chucked me for good last night. Did you lose your way, or was your 'character' too interesting?"
"Character too interesting," was the laconic reply.
"And I'll bet you've been awake all night studying it out."
