"I wouldn't have blood in my veins, if I didn't. But—about something for you to do—I must think."
"Are you staying here for some time?" asked the girl.
"I haven't made up my mind."
"I asked because I—I suppose you don't need a secretary, do you? I can write such a good English hand; and I know French and Italian as well as I do German, and your own language. If I could be of use, I would work so hard for you."
"I dare say I shall be needing a secretary after Christmas, indeed, I'm sure I shall," insisted the young man, more and more earnest in his desire to do good. "I have dozens of letters to write every day, and all sorts of odds and ends to keep straight. I could bring the things down to your place and you could help me, if you would. But I'm afraid it would be no end of bother to you."
"I should love it," said the girl, gently.
"Oh, it would be hard work. It would take a lot of your time, and be worth a lot of money."
"Would it really? But you mustn't overpay me. I should be so angry if you did that."
"There's no danger. I'm a good business man, I assure you. I should pay a capable secretary like you—knowing several languages and all that—say forty dollars a week. That's about two hundred francs."