“Well, I said I did, didn’t I?” pursued Ritchie.
There was a pause.
“He was here to-day,” said Madeline; “him and his sister. I must say I didn’t think much of her—all painted and everything. She wants to get me a job with one of those Fifth Avenue dressmakers, as a model, to show off the dresses.”
There was calm triumph in her tone, but despair seized Ritchie’s heart.
“She says I’d be an elegant model,” observed Madeline.
“All right!” said Ritchie. “Go ahead! Be one! Suit yourself!”
Another pause.
“That po’try you showed me,” said Madeline. “I thought it was sweet.”
“It’s not meant to be sweet,” replied Ritchie severely. “It’s more like, now, tragic. If you’d read more—”
“I always admired the way you read such a lot,” said Madeline.