“Listen, Jerry,” she coaxed, half dreamily, “I love you an awful lot. You’re a nice boy. But let’s don’t talk about getting married—please let’s don’t.”
“If you love me,” he insisted, “there’s no reason why we shouldn’t.”
She shook her head, yet in a vaguely undecided way which encouraged him to press his point. “I don’t see how it can be money that’s holding you back. Two can live cheaper than one—everybody says so who’s tried it.”
“You mean two can live together cheaper than single, don’t you?” she laughed.
“You know it’s true!” he cried. “And if it’s only because you don’t want to give up hopes of being a prima donna, why you don’t have to. You’d still have your job, and I’d have mine.”
“But just supposing,” she rambled perversely, “I’d want to leave the stage some day and have swell things and an auto? What then, mister?”
“By that time,” he assured her, “I’ll be making enough for two myself. I hope you don’t think I’m never going to do anything bigger than this!” He spoke magnificently.
“Rich man, poor man,”—the girl gently enumerated the buttons down the front of his coat, holding her head playfully first on one side and then on the other.
“I’m crazy about you, Lili!” he said, somewhat thickly, grasping her hands but not otherwise knowing exactly what to do with such very strong emotion as this.
“I’m crazy about you too, Jerry,” she giggled. “They all laugh at us for a couple of love-sick prunes, but that don’t bother me. When I’m crazy about a man I’m going to be, that’s all. Don’t you love the way he holds onto that last note? Yes, I knew he’d get a hand! It always gets a hand when you hold on that way.” And she sighed. “I wish I could ever draw a real song like that. Do you think I’m satisfied with the bits I do? I am not!”