“You have quite enough confidence,” Sybil declared, with some asperity, “and as a matter of fact you dance too well to need any more lessons.”
“Are you giving up teaching?” he asked.
“That depends.”
“You really mean to continue your association with these people? Mind, I am speaking advisedly concerning them. Mason and Hartwell are both well-known about town. They are adventurers pure and simple and absolutely improper associates for you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Sybil assured him indifferently.
“But you ought not to be seen with such a crowd,” he objected.
“Why not? I haven’t the slightest objection to being called an adventuress. I want to make money, and so far as money is concerned, I have no conscience. I am a hopelessly incompetent clerk or secretary, and I am keeping the chorus for a last resource.”
“Why should you be an incompetent secretary?” he demanded.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose I haven’t the temperament for service. I was dismissed from my first two situations for what they called impertinence, and I had to leave the third because all three partners tried to kiss me. I didn’t mind one,” she went on reflectively, “but with all three it grew monotonous.”