Roger frowned. "Will you promise to quit the instant I ask you to?"
Anne laughed. "Are you always going to boss me round like this?"
Roger's hand slipped into hers. "No. Because we're going to want to do the same things."
The future was going to be very wonderful.
"And I'm going to do some of the wanting and you're going to do some of the meek and mutual obeying?" she teased, and wished they were alone so that Roger could kiss her. Instead he dropped her hand and looked down seriously.
"Do you mean, honestly, that you would rather work until we marry? I never want to try to persuade you to do anything against a real inclination."
Anne knew that her puckered brows and serious lips were weighing, to Roger, hesitation between her own preference and the dislike of going counter to this, his first expressed request. But behind them the thought clicked away that Roger himself could solve the problem by accepting the opening of private secretary to Hilary Wainwright, a millionaire ship owner and philanthropist, who had offered him the place as soon as he heard that Roger had left John Lowell. But Roger was not quite sure that he believed in Wainwright or that he wanted the place. The tick, tick, kept saying: "Take the place for a beginning and we can marry to-morrow."
"Yes, dear, I think I do," she said at last, and added gayly, "Now, where is Wilmot & Brown?"
They walked east to Mission Street and stopped before the building.
"I'll wait here twenty minutes. If you don't turn up I'll know you're taken."