“The job of—of bein’ laughed at—jeered at––”
“I’d be the one who’d be laughed at and jeered at. Nobody would think anything about you. They wouldn’t remember how you looked or know your name. If you got sick of it after a bit, and decided to cut and run, you could do it. I’d see that you were well treated—for the rest of your life.”
She studied him long and earnestly. “Say, are you crazy?”
“I’m all on edge, if that’s what you mean. But there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. I shan’t do you any harm at any time.”
“You only want to do harm to yourself. I’d be like the awful kind o’ pill which a fellow’ll swaller to commit suicide.” She rose, not without a dignity of her own. “Well, mister, if I’m your fourth, I guess you’ll have to look about you for a fifth.”
“Where are you going?”
He asked the question without rising. She answered as if her choice of objectives was large.
“Oh, anywheres.”
“Which means nowhere, doesn’t it?”