"Don't worry, Freddie. I'd not take it, even if you screwed yourself up to the point of offering it."
He glanced up quickly and guiltily. "Why not?" he said. "You'd be practically my wife. I can trust you. You've had experience, so you can't blame me for hesitating. Money puts the devil in anybody who gets it—man or woman. But I'll trust you——" he laughed—"since I've got to."
"No. The most I'd take would be a salary. I'd be a sort of companion."
"Anything you like," cried he. This last suspicion born of a life of intimate dealings with his fellow-beings took flight. "It'd have to be a big salary because you'd have to dress and act the part. What do you say? Is it a go?"
"Oh, I can't decide now."
"When?"
She reflected. "I can tell you in a week."
He hesitated, said, "All right—a week."
She rose to go. "I've warned you the chances are against my accepting."
"That's because you haven't looked the ground over," replied he, rising. Then, after a nervous moment, "Is the—is the——" He stopped short.