"What are you thinking about—mischief?" he asked.
"Only of how Martin is going to be paid what we owe him," she answered teasingly. "Don't let the debt worry you any."
"Spill the news, Reddy," he commanded, as his arm tightened about her.
She stuck out a tiny tip of red tongue at him.
"Don't let Peggy find out he's a millionaire."
"Why not?" he asked wonderingly, then he saw her point and laughed:
"You little matchmaker!"
"I don't care, laugh if you want to. Martin's as nice a man as I know, and Peggy's a real darling. Don't you let slip a word about Martin's money, that's all!"
"She wouldn't think any less of him, would she?"
"Dick, sometimes you are absolutely dumb. It would spoil everything. If she knew he was a millionaire she would be scared to death—not of him, of course, but because she would think that he would think that she was chasing him, and then of course he would think that she was, see? As it is, she acts perfectly natural, and so does he. Didn't you notice that while we were eating they talked together for at least fifteen minutes about her father's invention and the way they stole the plans and one thing and another? I don't believe he has talked that much to any girl except me the last five years—and he wouldn't talk to me until he knew that I couldn't see any man except you. Much as we like Martin, we've got to admit that about him. He's been chased so much that he's wild. If any other girl he knows had talked to him that long, he would have been off to the North Pole or somewhere the next morning, and the best part of it is that he didn't think anything of it."