“Life’s hard on young people,” he said at length with a deep breath and a dubious shake of his head. “It’s hard enough for them to get adjusted to one another without having to worry over money matters. I’m sorry your marriage has not turned out well. I feel particularly badly because I urged you into it. Devlin seemed a likely fellow to me.”
They both considered the matter, studying the floor. Jeannette felt as she stood there her life was breaking to pieces.
“If you’re in debt,” said Mr. Corey at length, “and it’s merely a question of money to tide you over present difficulties; you must let me lend you what you need.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” she said quickly.
“Oh, yes, but you must,” he insisted.
With firmness she declined. She wasn’t begging; she just had had one man try to give her money; she couldn’t accept financial assistance from anyone. No, it was her own problem,—she could work it out herself without anyone’s help.
“Very well, then,” he suggested, “come back and work for me awhile. I’ve an abominable person as secretary now; I intended to fire her anyhow, and it will give me tremendous satisfaction to do so at once, for I never needed efficient help more desperately than now.”
The words of polite thanks on Jeannette’s lips died. She raised her eyes and fixed them on the face of the man before her, a light breaking slowly in them.
“You mean ...?” she began. Her face was like radiant dawn.
“I mean exactly what I say: come back for as long as you wish. Stay until you’ve earned what you need, and be free to go when you’re ready: three months, six months, whenever you like.... It will be good to see you back even for a short time at your old desk.”