"Damned if I know," answered Mr. Simson, with a burst of candour. "Can't help it, I suppose. Lost me job again."
"The old story?" suggested Miss Ensor.
"The old story," sighed Mr. Simson. "One of the customers happened to be passing last Wednesday when I was speaking on the Embankment. Heard my opinion of the middle classes?"
"Well, you can't expect 'em to like it, can you?" submitted Miss Ensor.
"No," admitted Mr. Simson with generosity. "It's only natural. It's a fight to the finish between me and the Bourgeois. I cover them with ridicule and contempt and they hit back at me in the only way they know."
"Take care they don't get the best of you," Miss Ensor advised him.
"Oh, I'm not afraid," he answered. "I'll get another place all right: give me time. The only thing I'm worried about is my young woman."
"Doesn't agree with you?" inquired Miss Ensor.