"Oh, you would rather see the world than me?" queried the girl, drawing away from him with an injured air, whereupon Dic, of course, vowed that he would rather see her face than a thousand worlds.
"Then why don't you stay where you can see it?" she asked poutingly.
"Because, as I told you, I want to make money so that when I go into Mr. Switzer's office I can support you—and the others—" He stopped, surprised by his words.
"The others? What others?" asked the girl. That was a hard question to answer, and he undertook it very lamely.
"You see, Rita," he stammered, "there will be—there might—there may be—don't you know, Rita?"
"No, I don't know, Dic. Why are you so mysterious? What others—who—oh!" And she hid her face upon his breast, while her arms stole gently about his neck.
"You see," remarked Dic, speaking softly to the black waves of lustrous hair, "I must take Iago's advice and put money in my purse. I have always hoped to be something more than I am. Billy Little, who has been almost a father to me, has burned the ambition into me. But with all my yearning, life has never held a real purpose compared with that I now have in you. The desire for fame, Rita, the throbbing of ambition, the lust for gold and dominion, are considered by the world to be the great motives of human action. But, Rita, they are all simply means to one end. There is but one great purpose in life, and that is furnished to a man by the woman he loves. Billy Little gave me the thought. It is not mine. How he knew it, being an old bachelor, I cannot tell."
"Perhaps Billy Little has had the—the purpose and lost it," said Rita, being quite naturally in a sentimental mood.
"I wonder?" mused Dic.
"Poor, dear old Billy Little," mused Rita. "But you will not go to New York?" continued Miss Persistency.