She closed the door and hurried him below.
"You see, I've realized part of my ambition," she said, sinking into the squeaky rocker. "I'm not so clever or so cultured and all that, but I came from the backwoods to be somebody and have something, and I'll make good one way or another. What you saw is just a beginner. I might have bought a typewriter instead, but—well, I just didn't."'
"They're mighty nice," commented Hiram, as she paused.
"Yes, they made a fool out of me when I hit Frisco," she continued absently, "but my day's coming. I'm getting a toehold, as your Mr. Tweet says. I've rubbed off some of the Mendocino moss." She glanced a little vainly at her slim, well-garbed figure. "I'm after the money now—and I'll get it!
"But tell me about your partner," she continued. "Who is he, anyway?"
"I can't tell you."
"M'm-m!" She pursed her lips and frowned thoughtfully. "And he just wants you to go out with him, hit or miss?"
"That seems to be it, ma'am. And I don't think I'll go—now."
"Now? What do you mean, now?"
A wave of red ran over Hiram's face, and he began stammering.