"You can trust me. I see I've got to hustle to keep my job with you. Well, thank God, your friend Brent's old enough to be your father."
"Is he?" cried Susan. "Do you know, I never thought of his age."
"Yes, he's forty at least—more. Are you sure he isn't after you, Susie?"
"He warned me that if I annoyed him in that way he'd discharge me."
"Do you like him?"
"I—don't—know" was Susan's slow, reflective answer.
"I'm—afraid of him—a little."
Both became silent. Finally Rod said, with an impatient shake of the head, "Let's not think of him."
"Let's try on your new clothes," cried Susan.
And when the dishes were cleared away they had a grand time trying on the things she had bought. It was amazing how near she had come to fitting him. "You ought to feel flattered," said she. "Only a labor of love could have turned out so well."
He turned abruptly from admiring his new suit in the glass and caught her in his arms. "You do love me—you do!" he cried. "No woman would have done all you've done for me, if she didn't."