Her nerves were on edge, as were his. "That's right!" she said, tears in her eyes. "Suspect me."
"I'm not suspecting you," he retorted angrily. "Don't drag your sex into work. You're not a woman here. We've no time for poodle-dog politeness."
"I don't want politeness," cried she. "What did I say that could possibly make you think I did?"
"It was what you didn't say," replied he. "Why didn't you answer back? Or throw the ladle at me?"
"I will next time."
And there they both laughed.
Now, she was free—absolutely free—and with money enough of her own earning to get her and Winchie to New York and to keep them for quite a while. And Narcisse Siersdorf had written most encouraging comments on the account of her efforts at landscape gardening and on the accompanying photographs, and had offered her a clerkship at twenty-five dollars a week "as a starter." Also, Richard, as an earnest of his belief and his interest, had got her an offer of a trial position at twenty dollars a week in the laboratories of the American Coal Products Company at Chicago. She was not only free; she was independent.
The morning after Narcisse's letter came she saw Richard eying her curiously several times, as if he were puzzling over something but hesitated to question her. The fourth or fifth time she caught him at it, she said: "What do you want to ask me? Have I made a mistake?"
"No—no, indeed," protested he. "You don't make mistakes."
He had been extremely polite, no matter how severely his temper was tried, ever since the day of the little flare-up over the failed experiment. And every day it pleased her through and through, pleased and thrilled her, that his reason was fear lest she, perfectly free to go, should resign and quit, if he did not behave.