“All that I know is that I am in love, and, oh, yes, I am very, very rich, I guess, at least my lawyer says so.”
“I did not know you were a woman of wealth.”
“I know. You see no one knows that but my attorney and myself, and now that I have told you, you also know it, but you won’t tell it, will you?”
“Not if you wish it to remain a secret, but now that you have told me so much, will you tell me why you do not want the fact to become public?”
“Well, you see, as I said, I am in love, and I guess to tell you one part I must tell you all, but you are one of those horrid newspaper reporters. You will have that all printed.”
“No, not until you have given your permission.”
“Have some candy, and see, here is a present I just received yesterday. Isn’t he a little darling?”
Whereupon this little one hundred ten pound mite of humanity dropped a silk poodle from under a soft comforter with one hand while she passed a box of Allegrettis to me with the other. While I in turn patted the dog with one hand and at the same time relieved the box of a couple of pieces of the sweet-meats.
“Now,” said I, “let’s have a story.”
“Well, you see, it was this way. I was born in Janesville, Wisconsin. My father was a mechanic; he was poor, so very poor, that my mother’s folks, who were rich, got awfully mad when she married papa. They would not go to see her nor allow her to go to see them.