"I explained the other day what I was aiming for. Such an arrangement as you suggest wouldn't help. You see that?"
"It's all I can do—at present," replied she firmly. And she was now ready to stand or fall by that decision. She had always accepted the other previous terms—or whatever terms fate offered. Result—each time, disaster. She must make no more fatal blunders. This time, her own terms or not at all.
He was silent a long time. She knew she had convinced him that her terms were final. So, his delay could only mean that he was debating whether to accept or to go his way and leave her to go hers. At last he laughed and said:
"You've become a true New Yorker. You know how to drive a hard bargain." He looked at her admiringly. "You certainly have got courage. I happen to know a lot about your affairs. I've ways of finding out things. And I know you'd not be here if you hadn't broken with the other fellow first. So, if I turned your proposition down you'd be up against it—wouldn't you?"
"Yes," said she. "But—I won't in any circumstances tie myself. I must be free."
"You're right," said he. "And I'll risk your sticking. I'm a good gambler."
"If I were bound, but didn't want to stay, would I be of much use?"
"Of no use. You can quit on seven minutes' notice, instead of seven days."
"And you, also," said she.
Laughingly they shook hands. She began to like him in a new and more promising way. Here was a man, who at least was cast in a big mold. Nothing small and cheap about him—and Brent had made small cheap men forever intolerable to her. Yes, here was a man of the big sort; and a big man couldn't possibly be a bad man. No matter how many bad things he might do, he would still be himself, at least, a scorner of the pettiness and sneakiness and cowardice inseparable from villainy.