"Good evening, Miss Huntingdon. What number do you wish?"
Perhaps it was from the heat of the day, or from stooping over his desk, or perhaps it was from something else, but his cheek was flushed, and gradually it grew pale again.
"Russell, I want to speak to you about Electra. She ought to be at school, you know."
"Yes."
"But she says your mother can't afford the expense."
"Just now she cannot; next year things will be better."
"What is the tuition for her?"
"Five dollars a month."
He selected a delicate fawn-coloured pair of gloves and laid them before her, while a faint smile passed over his face.