Susan nodded. Said she thoughtfully, "I guess that's why I came—one of the main reasons. You are wonderfully sensible and decent about money."
"And the other chap isn't?"
"Oh, yes—and no. He likes to make a woman feel dependent.
He thinks—but that doesn't matter. He's all right."
"Now—for our understanding with each other," said Palmer. "You can have whatever you want. The other day you said you wanted some sort of a salary. But if you've changed——"
"No—that's what I want."
"So much a year?"
"So much a week," replied she. "I want to feel, and I want you to feel, that we can call it off at any time on seven days' notice."
"But that isn't what I want," said he—and she, watching him closely if furtively, saw the strong lines deepen round his mouth.
She hesitated. She was seeing the old woman's dance hall, was hearing the piano as the hunchback played and the old horrors reeled about, making their palsy rhythmic. She was seeing this, yet she dared. "Then you don't want me," said she, so quietly that he could not have suspected her agitation. Never had her habit of concealing her emotion been so useful to her.
He sat frowning at his glass—debating. Finally he said: