“What’s on your mind, dear?” he laughed. “Come on—we’re not going to let you be serious as that without an explanation.”
“I was just thinking——”
“With any other woman, I’d say, ‘Be careful!’ ” he assured her, with a benignant grin. Hugh Benton still believed in the vast superiority of the masculine. But Geraldine did not answer his smile. It must be something serious she was considering.
“If I were to be very frank with you, Hugh,” she began hesitatingly, and her eyes held only a look of adoration, and something that seemed to tell his vanity that she feared to displease him by anything she might say, “would you consider me presuming or guilty of an unpardonable interference in your affairs?”
“My dear, how little you know me! You know I am always glad to listen to anything you may have to say.”
“Well, then,” she was most cautious, still hesitating, “does Marjorie know exactly how much you are worth? Have you always taken her into your confidence regarding your financial standing? Please do not think my asking these questions strange—you will soon see, dear, that I have only your interest at heart.”
“Why, no,” he answered, but puzzled at this new interest of the woman who had always so carefully refrained from the mention of money, “Marjorie doesn’t know anything about my affairs.”
The semi-lighting effects of the café and her large, drooping hat, prevented him from seeing the triumphant gleam in the woman’s eyes.
“When we first came to New York,” he explained, “we used to discuss all the transactions of the office, but that was only for a very short time. For years she has not shown the slightest interest in me or my doings. I have paid all the bills and given her a liberal allowance, nearly all of which she invested in charity.”
“How about Mr. Hammond? Does he happen to know just what you are worth?”