She turned her head and looked at him for the first time since he began his discourse on making one's way in the world. Her look was calm, inquiring—would have been chilling to a man of sensibility—that is, of sensibility toward an unconquered woman.
"I want to give your people that order, and I want to help you."
"I want them to get the order. I don't care about the rest," she replied dully.
"Put it any way you like."
Again he tried to embrace her. She resisted firmly. "Wait," said she. "Let me think."
They drove the rest of the way to the upper end of the Park in silence.
He ordered the driver to turn. He said to her; "Well, do you get the sack or does the house get the order?"
She was silent.
"Shall I drive you home or shall we stop at Gabe's for a drink?"
"Could I have champagne?" said she.