"I?" she replied, fearing she was misunderstanding.
"Will you go?"
"Do you want me?" she asked, low and breathlessly.
With a reluctance which suggested—but not to her—that his generosity was winning a hard-fought battle with his vanity, he replied: "I need you. I doubt if I'd dare, without you to back me up."
"I've got a trunk full of fairly good clothes and about a hundred dollars. But I haven't got any play—or any art—or any trade even. Of course, I'll go." Then she hastily added, "I'll not be a drag on you. I pay my own way."
"But you mustn't be suspicious in your independence," he warned her. "You mustn't forget that I'm older than you and more experienced and that it's far easier for a man to get money than for a woman."
"To get it without lowering himself?"
"Ah!" he exclaimed, looking strangely at her. "You mean, without bowing to some boss? Without selling his soul? I had no idea you were so much of a woman when I met you that day."
"I wasn't—then," replied she. "And I didn't know where I'd got till we began to talk this evening."
"And you're very young!"